


Little One

by demigirl17



Series: Little one series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Jedi, LittleJohn, MasterSherlock, PadawanJohn, SithMoriarty, abuse history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 94,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demigirl17/pseuds/demigirl17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock never wanted a padawan, but he accepts John after the council practically forces him. Sherlock may have not wanted him in the beginning, but he'll be damned if anyone takes that little one away from him. Not the council, not the Dark Acolyte, not hell itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He did _not_ want an apprentice.

The Jedi council was slowly coming to the conclusion that the responsibility of an apprentice would help control Sherlock’s mood swings, his bad temper, his lack of respect, his sense of self-righteousness, etc., etc..  His brother leaned forward in his seat with his hands rested on the arm of his pompous throne.  Master Yoda sat next him with a slightly crazed smile, he was nodding towards Mycroft’s direction.

_Please God no._

“Have an apprentice, you will.”  Master Yoda almost seemed to be giggling to the younger man.  “Meet him today, you shall.”

“Master…” Sherlock’s comment was a low drawl.  If he could just get the old midget to see reason, Sherlock liked being alone.  He liked doing research on far off planets ALONE.  The old master raised his hands and dismissed the few present members of the council.  Everyone, but Sherlock, bowed in respect.  Sherlock opened his mouth to protest farther, but his brother shot him a deadly glance with the icy blue eyes the shared.

Sherlock clamped his mouth shut and turned on his heel.  His traditional Jedi robes swished dramatically behind him.  When he reached the main hall he heard Mycroft calling after him.  Sherlock sighed heavily, it was bad enough to find out he was related to the git, but to have him constantly on his younger brother’s heels was downright annoying.

It had gotten progressively worse since Sherlock’s master had passed.

“Yes, Mycroft?” Sherlock was so bored he could hardly stand to be on Coruscant anymore.  He missed Tatooine, more importantly he missed his experiments.  Mycroft was grabbing his shoulder gently.  Sherlock came to a stop.  “What?” he demanded rudely.

“I thought you would like to know about your future apprentice," Mycroft said coolly.

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose in an annoyed fashion.  “There is nothing about this boy deductive reasoning won’t tell me when I meet him.”

“What if it’s a girl, dear brother?”  Mycroft smirked at Sherlock’s scowl.  “I can tell you everything about this child right now if you’d like.”  He motioned for the younger Holmes to follow him.

Sherlock wanted nothing more than to punch his brother directly in the nose.  His late master would have smiled at that.  “Tell me.  Quickly.”

“His name is John.  John Hamish Watson, he is from the planet Stewjon, he has a very advanced grip on the force, but his light saber use is shaky.  He was found when he was four, so he knew his mother, father, and sister as it turns out.  He is eight years, three months, and eighteen days old.”

“He is only eight?”  Sherlock demanded.  “He is a youngling, Mycroft!”

“An advanced youngling.  The council ruled he would be the best match for you.”  Mycroft led him down into the youngling’s quarters.  Sherlock glanced around swiftly.

“I don’t even know how to raise an apprentice," Sherlock snarled.

“Take him with you wherever you go.  Give him pointers, teach him to use the light saber, let him help you with your experiments, keep him safe, Sherlock.”

They stopped in front of a small room.  Sherlock glanced at the name craved into it.  _John H. Watson._ “Yes, Master," Sherlock said snidely before ducking into the small boy’s room.

A small blond boy was packing some clothing into a large backpack.  His back was turned to the two adults, Sherlock took the brief second before the small boy noticed him to take in the child.  He was small, about the size of a six year old boy.  He wasn’t scrawny, but he looked like he should at least have two more meals added to his diet.  His ears that already slightly stuck out pricked as he sensed his two elders in his room.

He turned swiftly and bowed.  He brought his face up with a small, unsure smile that caused Mycroft to smile back.  Sherlock took in the small boys face.  His eyes were sky blue and incredibly trusting, he looked like he’d be the first one to hug an armed Dark Acolyte, instead of fighting one.  His nose turned up slight up at the end, making him look young and mischievous.  Sherlock put his hands under his own chin.

“’Lo," John said shyly.

“Hello, youngling," Mycroft said almost gently.  The boy’s smile grew ever so slightly.  “This is Sherlock Holmes.”  Mycroft jabbed a finger in his younger brother’s direction.  “No doubt you’ve been informed about him.”

“Yes, sir.  Master Sherlock is going to be my teacher until I’m old enough to become a knight, we’re assigned to the planet Tatooine.”  He peeked at Sherlock to make sure he was correct.  Sherlock gave a small nod.  John looked back to Mycroft.  “Master, if I can ask…none of the other children my age have masters, and I know I am too young for one…”

“That isn’t a question, youngling," Sherlock’s voice was cold.  “It is a statement.”

John seemed taken aback by his master’s deep voice.  Slowly he nodded.  “I’m sorry.  What I meant was, why do I get a master, sir?”  He fiddled with his hands.

Mycroft smiled down at him, he reached his hand out to the young boy.  “Come with me for a second, youngling.  I have something to share with you.”

John’s eyes widened to the size of small pebbles, he looked to Sherlock for permission.  Sherlock stepped aside and let Mycroft take the child out of the room.  The pair shut the door behind them, and Sherlock took the time to glance around his padawan’s room. 

It was a modest room, of course, one bed that sat next to an open window, a drawer, a dresser, and his training light saber next to his pack.  Sherlock carefully picked it up and activated it.  A light green saber pushed itself from the hilt, Sherlock examined it closely.  It would only stun an opponent, or give them a small burn.  The boy would need a new one if he was going to live on Tatooine.  A training light saber would not faze an attacking sand man.

He deactivated the light saber and placed it next to his pack again.  Mycroft and John reentered the room.  Sherlock looked his brother directly in the eyes.  “Mycroft, my padawan will need a new light saber, a proper light saber.  Get your things, youngling.  We will leave in ten minutes.”

John ran to get his pack and clipped his light saber to his belt.  He slung his pack over his slim shoulders.  His bright blue eyes were shining.  “Master, I can manage with my training light saber.  I don’t want to inconvenience anyone…”  His voice trailed off when he saw Sherlock’s blue-green eyes glaring at him.  He gulped.

“You will train with your current light saber, but believe me youngling, where we’re going you’ll want a real light saber on your hip.”

“Yes, Master," John said solemnly.  He looked steadily towards Mycroft.

“I will bring him one.  Would you like it to look like your training light saber, child?” he said gently.

“No, Master.  Can I have one like this please?”  He pulled a small design out of his pocket.  “I was going to forge this light saber for my knight’s testing.”  He looked at his feet as the older man took his piece of paper.  “But if I can have it now…with a green saber please.”  he added shyly.

Mycroft looked impressed over the design.  The hilt of the saber was in a simple tube form, but had black grips that delved into the sides.  It had two small, light brown circles at the base and top of the hilt.  There was even a compartment for a smaller light saber designed to fit in the bottom and fall out if need.  It would have to be no bigger than a pocket knife to fit in compartment.

“I will have it sent to Sherlock’s home on Tatooine before you arrive there.”  He passed the design to Sherlock.  “You should be impressed little brother.  The child has quite the design here.”

“Yes.”  Sherlock hardly glanced at it before passing it back to Mycroft.  John’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly in defeat.  His fellow younglings were right, he was going to have a hard rest of his life.  Sherlock motioned for the small boy to follow him and was out the door before John even had time to wiggle his toes.  John chased after Sherlock, leaving Mycroft shaking his head behind him.

John caught silently up to his master.  Sherlock looked down at the small child, who was practically running to keep up with his stronger stride.  He slowed down to a quick walk, John adjusted his pack on his shoulders.  He didn’t dare look up at Sherlock, instead he kept his eyes trained forward.  His hands gripped his pack’s straps uncomfortably.  Finally after a five minute walk the little boy piped up.

“Where are we going?” he asked quietly.

“To the loading bay.  We’re taking a craft back to Tatooine, it will be a four hour flight.  Have you flown before, youngling?”  Sherlock couldn’t care less if his padawan had flown before, he simply did not want to be barfed on by an unsteady child. 

“John," the boy said softly.

Sherlock stopped in his tracks.  “What?”

“John.  My name is John, sir.  Everyone calls me youngling or child, but my name is John.  And I’m not a youngling anymore, sir.  I’m a padawan now.”  John continued walking without the company of his master.  He kept his head bowed, Sherlock watched the boy with new interest.  He had never known a youngling to stand up to a Jedi knight before.  The corners of his lips twitched.

“John," he called firmly to his new apprentice.  The boy turned to look at him.  “Have you flown before, John?”

“Yes, Master.”  John gave him a small smile.  “I like flying, sir.  Can I maybe sit with the pilot, please?”

Sherlock walked up to the small boy.  He shrugged nonchalantly.  “We’ll see.  I don’t want you delaying our flight home with you bothering the pilot.”

John giggled, and Sherlock came dangerously close to smiling.  The two walked side by side, John seemed more eager than he had before.  He kept glancing happily up at Sherlock and asking him about his new light saber.

Sherlock was surprised to find he found the boy interesting.

**oOo**

“Master!”

John was bouncing up and down near a window pointing out different stars, whose names Sherlock had long since deleted.  Sherlock just wanted silence, but the boy wanted to talk.  He placed his hands over his ears, trying to block the insane child’s chatter.  “John," Sherlock said shortly.  “John.”  The boy was still chattering.  “John, shut up!”  Sherlock finally snapped.

Almost immediately the boy’s whole face crumbled, he sat down with his back against wall.  On instinct the small child reached for his light saber.  Tears were threatening to fall down his face.  Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Calm down.  I couldn’t get you to stop talking any other way.  I need to think, padawan.  Meditate, _quietly_.”  He put emphasis on the final word.  John sniffed loudly, quickly wiped his nose.  “John…”

“No teacher has ever told me to…”  John sniffed loudly.  He shifted through his pack and quickly pulled something out.  He hid it from Sherlock’s view.  Sherlock  
sighed. Shut up had been one of the very first things his master had said to him, but Lestrade had been more gentle than Sherlock.  The older man rubbed his temples.  This was infuriating.

“John…”

John looked at him with such young, innocent eyes it caused him to falter.  This was a small boy, a baby at most.  He shouldn’t be heading to Tatooine, where Sherlock was tracking a deadly Dark Acolyte, he should have been at the temple training.  “Come here, padawan.  Bring your teddy bear.”

John’s eyes widened.  “How did you know about, Mako?”

“I could sense him, John.  One day you will be able to as well.”  Again he motioned for the boy to come to him.  John padded over to him eagerly.  All past offenses were forgotten.  He sat closely to Sherlock’s leg and wrapped his arms protectively around his bear.  “You know you aren’t supposed to have personal items," Sherlock said shortly.

“I know, Master.  But my mother…”  He flinched. 

“Keep him, John.  I’m sure your bear won’t turn you to the dark side," he said quietly.  John beamed up at him.  “Meditate, John.”

“Yes, Master.”  John sounded too excited for a boy about to meditate.   “What’s on Tatooine?”

“Sand.”

“Why do you live there?”

“I’m tracking someone.”

“A Sith?”

“Yes, well sort of.  The Sith are long extinct, but this man fancies himself one.  The dark side is with him, but he is no Sith.”

“Will I help you fight him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Padawan,"  Sherlock warned.  “Meditate.”

“Why?”  John whined. 

“You are too young to fight a Dark Acolyte, you can hardly use your training light saber.”  Sherlock folded his hands under his chin.  John was looking up at him with huge blue eyes.  “Meditate, John.  Now.”

“Yes, Master,"  John said reluctantly.  He bowed his head obediently, Sherlock let out a relaxed sigh as his padawan’s breathing changed to a deeper state.  He shut his own eyes, but slowly, ever so slowly, John’s head fell against Sherlock’s knee.  Sherlock jumped.

John’s blond hair was sticking up at awkward angles, he was clinging desperately to his teddy bear.  Sherlock slowly reached down and carded his hand through the young boy’s hair.  He remembered his own master, Sherlock had not been a normal padawan, and Lestrade had certainly not been a normal master.  The older man was the only person Sherlock had been close to.  He pulled his hand away from the child’s hair.

And the only one he would be close to.


	2. Chapter 2

He had to carry the poor boy out of the landing bay.

John whined loudly as Sherlock prodded him to wake up.  “Five more minutes," the boy demanded.

“John, we’re here.”  He poked the boy harder.  “Come on, John.”

“No.  Five more minutes," he whined.  “Please.”

“John this is ridiculous.  I am the master, you are the padawan.  Wake up," Sherlock demanded.

“I’m tired.  I haven’t slept in weeks.  Ppplllleeeaaaassseeee.”  He gripped his bear tighter.  Sherlock eventually grew tired of arguing with the small boy.  He slung his padawan’s bag over his own shoulders and picked the small form up by his arm pits.  John nuzzled into his neck.  The cuddling surprised Sherlock, what kind of person naturally trusted a person they barely knew. 

He sighed. 

He unclipped both of their light sabers from their belts and hid them in the pack.  He had changed early out of his Jedi robes and into Tatooine’s traditional dress.  Long boots, cream pants, a cream shirt that would only cover half of his arms, and a cloak.  His apprentice was dressed as his miniature.  Jedi were not the most welcomed on this planet, he also didn’t want the Dark Acolyte to catch word he was tracking him. 

John was wrapping his thin arms around Sherlock’s neck.  His bear was pressed firmly between both male’s chests.  Sherlock once again came close to smiling.  He shifted his padawan until John was leaning more comfortably against him.  John was breathing heavily into his master’s neck.  The ships doors opened.

Almost immediately the smell of sand and booze hit the older man’s nose, even John wrinkled his nose in distain.  Sherlock allowed himself a small chuckle as he took a small step onto the planet he had called him for the last three months.  The Dark Acolyte Moran had called this planet home for the past five.  He didn’t understand what the Dark Acolyte was doing here for so long yet.  Yet.

He pulled his hood over his face and covered John’s head with his hand.  They stepped out in the raging sandstorm that hid the Jedi base so well.  Sherlock felt the Force deep within himself before pushing it out to redirect the sand away.  John stirred as he sensed his master’s power level growing.  Sherlock walked as swiftly as the Force would allow.  He wanted nothing more than to be home.  John opened his eyes slowly.

“Whoa!" he shouted as the storm ripped around them.  He looked down at Sherlock’s swift moving feet.

“Don’t move, John.  I don’t wish to drop you," Sherlock said sternly as the boy was already wiggling.  John stopped quickly, but immediately bombarded Sherlock with questions.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“How long will it take?”

“Two more minutes.”

“How fast are you going?”

“Very.”

“That’s not a proper answer!”

“You know what John, go back to wiggling.”

“Will I be able to run this fast?”

“John," Sherlock’s answer was short.

“Sorry, Master.”

Sherlock sighed angrily, he came to a steady stop a mile before his home, the storm had finally come to a halt.  He set John on the ground and held onto his bear.  “See that building there?” he said clearly and slowly.  John frowned as his master continued to address him as a child.  “Focus on directing the force through your legs, propelling you forward.  Stop before you hit my building, please.  I don’t want to have to repaint it.”

John nodded solemnly, he was eager to show Sherlock he was not a child.  He had always had a better way with the Force than most younglings.  He felt the Force growing in the pit of his stomach.  His brow scrunched in concentration.  All he had to do was focus…

John shot in the air seven feet.  He landed with a huge crash at Sherlock’s boots.  The older man sighed.  “I said focus on it propelling you forward.”

“I know," John snapped.  He tried again, he had to prove to Sherlock he was a worthy padawan.  He had to…

Again he shot several feet in the air.  He landed painful down on his knee with a cry of pain.  Tears of anger immediately sprang to his eyes.  He looked at Sherlock pleadingly.  Sherlock picked him up by the back of the hood and found himself repeating his master’s words of wisdom.  “Is there blood?”

“No.”  John sniffed.

“You’re fine.”  He plopped the boy back down and passed him his bear.  John took Mako gratefully.  He looked up at Sherlock expecting to see disappointment, like most of his teachers’ looks were.  Sherlock had an eyebrow cocked, but instead looked completely bemused.  John scowled at him.

“I want to try again.”

“You’ve tried enough, young one," Sherlock said smoothly, for once hoping his padawan would argue with him.  John passed him Mako.

“I’m going to try again.”  He wiped tears from his eyes.  “You can go ahead if you want.  I am going to be the best Jedi ever, I have to try.” 

Sherlock chuckled.  “Your ambition is too high.  You are eight, John.  You cannot clear your mind enough to master this move.  You lack focus.”

“Tell me what to do.  You’re my teacher…”  John said almost unsurely.  He looked up at his master with blue eyes blazing.  Sherlock pulled the small boy’s hood over his head and pulled it down over his eyes.  John gave an annoyed “oof”.

“Do not try to impress me when you’re doing this technic, young one.  I know you’re advanced with the force, I also know you lack focus.  Learn to see and observe me and what others are doing and if something interests you learn to copy that movement, perfect, and make it your own.  Learn to be clever, John.”

He leaned down to pick his apprentice up, but John took a step backwards.  “Please, Master, one more try?”

 “Once more," he said tiredly.  “Ignore my presences for now, John.  Focus on the force.”

John focused on the feeling of forward this time, he remembered Sherlock’s words.  Forward, forward, forward.  Pressure was building up in his stomach and just like that John shot half a mile forward.  He could feel the wind wisping through his hair.  He let out a happy whoop. 

He ran for what felt like seconds when the was a sudden arm tightening around his waist, pulling him close.  John yelped.

“John!  I said to slow down before you hit the building.”  Sherlock said angrily.  “Didn’t you hear me?  That was an idiotic thing to ignore, youngling.”  Sherlock’s voice was harsh.  He set John on the ground and came face to face with an angry eight year old.

“I am not a youngling anymore!”  He pouted.  “I’m not.”

“You could be.”  Sherlock threatened.  “If you don’t start listening to me.”

“I did listen!  I moved forward!”  John was coming close to a temper tantrum.  His lower lip trembled in childlike rebelliousness.

“Enough.”  Sherlock said crossly, he rubbed his temples.  “I have neither the time nor the patience to listen to you.  Inside.”

John crossed his arms defiantly.  He walked pass Sherlock in an angry huff and mumbled soft curses under his breath.  Sherlock was about to respond with his own curses, when a small droid knocked against his foot.  In its hands was a small package with a letter attached.  Sherlock dropped coins into the droid’s waiting head and accepted the package.  He read the letter swiftly.

_Be kind to him, brother.  He is very young – MH_

Sherlock scowled and crumpled the letter in his hand.  He entered his small hut and slid the door closed behind him.  He threw his apprentice’s bag on the floor.  John was peeking down hallways curiously.  He examined his new home diligently, he looked back to Sherlock quickly.  “I’m hungry," he said stoutly.

Sherlock hid his light saber behind his back.  John could have it only when he needed it, not a moment before.  He pointed straight in front of him towards a modest kitchen.  “There.  Food," he said shortly, unclipping his cloak.  He threw himself down on a couch and closed his eyes.

“Can you help me?”  John asked suddenly very polite.  “Please?”

“No.  You wouldn’t listen to me anyway," Sherlock said without opening his eyes.

“I don’t need you to tell me how to make a sandwich.”  John snarled.  “I need you to reach some things for me.”

“Use the force, John," Sherlock said sarcastically as he rolled onto his side and ignored the child.  He hid the young boy’s light saber under the chair.  Not a perfect hiding space, but it would do.  There was a small crash and a whimper.  Sherlock groaned.  “What is it now?”

He turned to see John sitting on the floor, covered in a jelly and glass, and bleeding from the head.  John was crying into hands, it was muffled, but Sherlock was sure it was profound.  Sherlock sighed, rose from the couch, and stepped on the table to get to the crying boy.  He sat directly in front of the boy, John hiccupped.

“What happened, padawan?” Sherlock’s tone was clearly annoyed.  John sniffled.

“Nothing.  Go away.”  He covered his face with his hand again.  “I hate this.  I’m too little…I…I wanna go home.  Everyone else was right…this…this is awful.  I’m too ‘lil to have a master.  I’m too ‘lil to be a padawan.  I wanna be a youngling again.  At least those teachers help you make a stupid sandwich.”  He looked at Sherlock with hurt blue eyes.  “I wanna go home, sir.  Please, I wanna go home.”

Sherlock looked a little stunned at John’s sudden outburst.  He made a move to wipe jelly from John’s face, but the child covered his head again.  He wanted nothing to do with the older man.  Sherlock was becoming insanely frustrated, there was no happy medium with this child.  He was either too eager or too miserable. 

_Be kind to him, brother.  He is very young._

Sherlock noticed John’s teddy bear was covered with jelly.  He felt the Force in his hand and annoyance in his heart as he slowly guided the jelly off Mako’s fur.  John was watching him through his fingers.  Sherlock made a small hand motion and the glass and jelly on the floor sprang into a trash droid.  He had the boy’s full attention now.  “I can’t take the jelly off of you until you move your hands away from your face," he said softly.

John slowly took his hands away.

Sherlock stood up and walked to the sink.  He motioned for John to come to him, the boy followed him curiously.  Sherlock wet a rag, he passed it down to John.  “Take care of your face, I’ll get your hair.”  As Sherlock reached out with the force jelly shot from the blond boy’s hair.  He smiled as the hair stood on end.  John finished washing his face as Sherlock knelt in front of him.

“Where are you cut?”

John shook his head.  “I’m fine, Master, sir.  Look.”  He showed him his arm, where the cuts were already starting to vanish.  He smiled.  “That’s why people say I’m advanced, sir.   I heal by myself.”

Sherlock found himself smiling a little with his padawan.  “Are you still hungry?”  He was far more gentle with his words than before.

“Yes, sir.”  John’s stomach growled in agreement.  He looked at the spilled jelly sadly.  “I’m very hungry, sir.”

“John," Sherlock said steadily.  “If you are hungry from now on you must tell me.  I have trained myself beyond eating and sleep.  It slows me down, but for a growing boy it is an important thing.”

“Yes, sir,"  John said softly.

“Would you like to go out to eat?”  Sherlock said suddenly feeling guilty he had forced an eight year old to feed himself.  He had forgotten children under the age of twenty-two were useless.  John was nodding eagerly.  Sherlock ruffled John’s hair absent mindedly as he went to get his light saber.  He didn’t see his padawan grinning ear to ear at his gesture.

Sherlock pulled a robe around his shoulders and clipped his light saber to the back.  When his padawan went to mirror his master’s movement he was stilled.  Sherlock held his hand out for the young one’s training light saber.  John passed it over unwillingly.  Sherlock laid it on the table carefully.  He gestured for John to follow him, but his apprentice grabbed his robe swiftly.

“Why must I leave my light saber behind, Master?”  John pouted.

“John.”  Sherlock didn’t know how to explain to a boy who grew up thinking the Jedi were gods that there were some areas that hated them.  He ran his hand through hair.  “I’m tracking a Dark Acolyte.”  He told a half truth.  “I can’t have the villages here ratting me out to him.  In fact when we are out call me Sherlock, I don’t want to draw in suspicion.”  

John looked at him with adoring eyes.  He decided right then and there his master was the coolest/crankiest Jedi that ever lived.  “Amazing.”  He breathed.  Sherlock shook his head.  It wasn’t a word most people described him as.

He opened the door as his padawan scampered into a small speeder parked outside the house.  He launched into the driver’s side with John buckling his belt beside him.  “Master, may I drive?”

That could be…interesting.

He nodded slowly.  John unbuckled his seat quickly and hopped into Sherlock’s lap.  He looked up at Sherlock with huge, excited eyes.  “Now you clearly can’t reach the pedals, but if you could this one is gas, this one is…”

John was paying incredible attention to his every word.  Sherlock smiled down at the little blond boy in his lap.

He remembered the first time his own master taught him to drive.  He hoped it would go better than that disaster.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re wrong again.”

John was shoveling in an unusually huge hunk of meat.  He refused to cut it and was biting into the end of it viciously.  Sherlock rolled his eyes, he had decided to quiz the boy over his knowledge of the Jedi Order.  “Did you hear me, young one?  I said you were wrong again.”

“I would though, Master.”  John was immediately defensive of his answer.  Both Jedi were speaking in hushed tones.  “I would save you if you were captured.”

“You would no such thing.”  He pointed a spoon full of air at John.  “You would go back to Jedi temple, get a new master, and be done with it.”  He wrapped his lips around his empty spoon.  John snorted into his sugar drink.

“Would you save me?” he muttered.

“Of course I would, you’re my responsibility.”  Sherlock fished soup out of his bowl and ate more.  It had been an emotional day and for once he was abnormally hungry.  He hoped it wouldn’t last.  John played with his veggies.

“Well I would save you too.  I could be brave," John muttered. 

“Bravery is a polite way of saying foolish, young one.  This is a serious discussion, not the imagination of a child.  If I am captured by a Dark Acolyte, which is a possibility, you will not come after me.  Do you understand?” he demanded.

“Yes.”  John was far too quiet.

“Liar.”

“I won’t leave you," John said a little too loudly.  Sherlock shushed him earnestly.  John was far too loyal, far too quickly.  It would make him easy to manipulate if he wasn’t careful.

“John, in my line of work…”

“Holmes!”  A loud voice called across the restaurant.  Sherlock paled.

“Balls.”  He muttered. 

A short, fat, grey haired man was running towards them waving.  Sherlock put his spoon back in his bowl.  John frowned, he knew Sherlock didn’t eat nearly enough.  John pouted at him.  “You should eat.”

“Shush," Sherlock said sternly.  “I will when this idiot is gone.”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“Yes, so does he.  John, he works with the Dark Acolyte, do not mention the Jedi Order and… don’t take offense to his language.”

“Yes, Mas…Sherlock.”

“Holmes!”  The man skidded to a halt in front of the table with a sneer.  “Force sake, Holmes.  You go away for ship parts and come back with a kid.  How is that shitty piece of shit ship of yours?”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.  “Hope, for the last time I’m not selling you my “shitty piece of shit ship”.  Don’t give me that look, it wouldn’t take a mind seer to read your thoughts. This is my nephew.  He is staying with me for a while.  Is your employer ready to do business with me or not?  You’re wasting my valuable time if he isn’t.”

John waved his feet back and forth under the table trying to look innocent.  Sherlock gave him an odd look, he forced himself to stop.  Hope was blabbing more information that Sherlock did not seem interested in.  John scraped his veggies off his plate when he thought Sherlock wasn’t looking.  Sherlock flicked him.

The Force was annoyingly strong with his master.

“Tell your employer to forget it, Hope.  I have no interest in him if he is going to waste my time and resources.  I’m sure there are plenty of other buyers who are interested in my information.  Come a long, John.”

John gave him a panicked look.  “But…but Sherlock…you promised you’d eat…”

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  He grabbed his discarded bowl and slurped it down in one gulp.  He wiped his mouth dramatically.  “Is it okay to leave now, John?” he mocked.

John scowled at him and pushed away from the booth.  He walked up to Sherlock, for whatever reason he sensed Hope to be horrible human being.  He leaned against Sherlock’s leg in need of comfort.  The older man made no move to comfort his young padawan, but he did not brush him off completely.  Sherlock turned to go guiding the boy by his shoulders.  “Can I drive again?”  John asked innocently.  “Practice makes perfect, you said that.”

“I suppose I did…”

“Holmes, my employer is not a man you want to turn your back on.”  Hope was following them to the speeder.  John wished he’d just go away.  He wanted his master to teach him more about the speeder.  He had done pretty well, they had only crashed once, and he had dumped Sherlock out of the side only twice.  Sherlock had even laughed a little.

“So you admit he’s interested in me," Sherlock said calmly.  “Tell him to contact me himself next time.  I’d be happy to swap money for information.  Good night.”  He steered John out swiftly.  John had never seen Sherlock smiling so largely.  “I’m so close John.  He’s slipping up.  Gods, I’m in a beautiful mood.”  John nodded numbly.

Sherlock allowed John to crawl into his lap to drive.  He noticed the small boy was absolutely quivering.  “What’s wrong, young one?” Sherlock asked in a low voice.

“I don’t like that man, Master," John was trembling fiercely.  “He felt…disgusting.  His aura was all wrong.  And then you said he worked for the Dark Acolyte, and the whole time I was panicking because I thought he’d find you out, and then take you away, and then you said I wasn’t allowed to save you.”  John wiped the tears from his eyes.

“John, you’re tired.  Let me drive home.”  The older man had no idea where all the tears were coming from.  Sherlock pulled John off his lap and put him gently in the next seat.  John leaned against the side of speeder with tears flowing down his cheeks.    He curled up into a small ball.  Sherlock drove home in silence, John eventually cried himself to sleep.  Sherlock pulled the car up next to the house and parked it.  He examined the child curiously.

John was upset that Sherlock might be hurt.  Why?  Sherlock was a grown man, he could take care of himself.  The small boy was still sniffling in his sleep still.  Had Sherlock felt that way once about his master?  He thought back to Lestrade.

He remembered how his silver haired master used to make him swear if anything went wrong Sherlock must run away before he’d take him on mission.  Sherlock had always crossed his fingers.

He pulled the sleeping boy into his arms bridal style.  He felt John’s arms circle around his neck and nuzzle into his upper body.  The feeling of affection, which Sherlock had long ago starved off, was creeping into his chest. 

He unlocked his padawan’s room.  He was carrying the boy’s pack in his free hand.  Sherlock laid it on the table and cracked it open.  There were no pillow, no blanket, nothing that would make John’s bare cot a bed.  Sherlock frowned, his bed had one blanket that was a necessity in the desert, but he could spare a pillow.  Sherlock laid John on his cot, but the boy was already shivering.  Nights in the desert were freezing.  Sherlock removed his robe and laid it across John’s small form.  He retrieved his Jedi cloak and tossed it over the boy.  His trembling stopped.

Sherlock found Mako and placed it under his padawan’s arm.  Sherlock also brought in his training light saber and set on the boy’s table.  He made sure the boy was completely tucked in before shutting off the lights.

“Goodnight John.”

 

oOo

 

He was having a nightmare.

An absolutely awful nightmare.

He was watching himself sitting on a bed next to a man with horrifying red eyes and bright blond hair.  The dream John was leaning into the huge man’s side nodding to whatever he was whispering.  There was a happy, obedient smile plastered all over dream John’s face.  But what terrified John the most was his dream counterpart’s blank blue eyes.  There was absolutely no shine to them, just clouds.

“Would you like to see him, Johnny?” the man said with an evil voice.  It sounded like the Siths in the old training holograms.

The real John cringed, he hated the name Johnny.  The dream John smiled wider.  “Oh yes, Master Moran.  I would.”  His voice sounded high and unnatural.

Behind the real John a door was sliding open.  Two droids were dragging in an unconscious looking man between them, his head was bowed but his dark hair was matted with blood.  There was a gash through his right ear that dripped blood down onto his shoulder.  The real John felt sick as Sherlock looked up at dream John through swollen eyes.  “John?”

“No!”  Real John screamed.  “I’m here Master!  Please, I’m here!”

“Hello.”  Dream John gave Sherlock a crooked grin.  “Master Moran said you wanted to see me?”

“Master…Moran?  John, please run.  You promised me you would run away!”  Sherlock thrashed against the droids holding him.  The hit him over the head repeatedly until he stopped moving.

“Oh yeah.”  Dream John said happily.  “I was going to save you.  So you would tell me you were proud of me, cause you never told me that.  But Master Moran caught me.  He said he was proud of me right away, he gave me a shot too, but that stopped hurting.  He’s so proud of me.  I like this master, he likes me.”  Dream John’s smile never failed.

“John, I am proud of you.  I AM!  I have never not been proud of you.”  Sherlock spat out a wad of blood.

“You say that now because you don’t want me to be with Master Moran.”

“John I am proud of you.  You should have run.  You stupid, stupid boy.”  Sherlock had tears streaming down his face.

Dream John’s eyes narrowed and suddenly he was shouting.  “You always called me stupid!  Always!  You never told me I was clever!  NEVER!”  He shrieked the last word.

“John," Moran whispered softly.  The creepy smiled reappeared on dream John’s face.

“Yes, Master.”  Dream John activated his training light saber.  “May I torture him now?

“Yes, my young apprentice.”

Sherlock was screaming before the blade ever touched his skin.

 

oOo

 

John woke up crying for his master.

Sherlock, who was in the next room over, was next to him in a matter of seconds.  John didn’t realize Sherlock had been sitting in on his dream through mediation.  John was too busy clinging to Sherlock to realize the older man’s white face.  John was crying into his chest, apologizing for a dream he didn’t know Sherlock knew about.  Sherlock didn’t know how to react.

“John.”

The boy wailed louder.

“John," Sherlock said a little more firmly.  John looked at him through tears, his face was dark red from sobbing.  Sherlock would not handle tears, it wasn’t something he was good at, nor would he pretend to be good at.  He picked the boy up silently, John pulled himself closer to Sherlock.  “Stop crying.”  Sherlock said shortly.  This only made John sob harder.

“No. No.  John, no.”  Sherlock squeezed him, he allowed the padawan to sniffle quietly into his neck.  Sherlock sat down on a couch with John perched in his lap.  Two hands were clinging to the front of Sherlock’s shirt.  “John, I am not angry at you for crying.  But you are a padawan now, you must calm down.  All dreams pass in time, focus on that.”

“I’m little,"  John sobbed.  “I’m too little.”

“Size doesn’t matter, young one.  Not when you’re clever, look at Master Yoda.  The little green midget.”

John snickered through tears.  “He’s my size.”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m not a midget.”

“No, you’re a youn…padawan.”  Sherlock stopped mid-way through the word youngling as he remembered John hated it.  John’s baby soft hair was tickling his chin.  “You will grow, John.  But because you have already started growing no more tears.  There is nothing to be scared of or sorry for.”  John was relaxing the more his master spoke.  He wasn’t going to cry anymore and he certainly wasn’t going to be the padawan of anyone other than Sherlock.

“Master, who is Moran?”  John whispered softly.

“He is the Dark Acolyte I have tracked here, John.  He is not someone to fear.”  Sherlock lay back and let John sprawl out on his chest.  “He’s a great big idiot, who wishes to bring something back that died long ago.”

John whimpered into his chest.  “He was what my nightmare was about.  He hurt you.” 

“I am the one who is protecting you, little one.  Don’t go around trying to protect me.”

John smiled into Sherlock chest.  He liked it when Sherlock called him “little one” it seemed less formal and more fond.  He let himself feel safe pressed against Sherlock’s chest.  “I don’t wanna lose anyone again.”  John whispered into his master’s chest.

Sherlock asked him softly what meant, but John was already snoring peacefully on his chest.  Sherlock reflected on the dream.

Master Moran?

You promised me you would run away!

 _He_ likes me.

I AM proud of you!

You always called me stupid.

Yes, MY young apprentice.

Sherlock would never admit it to his padawan, but the dream had frightened him too.  He had always been able to divorce himself from feeling, but with the thought of his padawan being at the mercy of that beast.

He was very afraid.


	4. Chapter 4

“Focus, little one.”

His master’s stern voice distracted him and for a fourth time he felt the sting of the laser-ball fire.  He didn’t understand why his master insisted on blindfolding him, he could see nothing, as the fifth sting on his leg proved.  He hated wearing only an under shirt and shorts, he wanted armor!  Something sturdy!  He whimpered.  “I wanna be done.”

“I don’t care, stop being dull.  This is training time, John.  Focus.  Feel, don’t think.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I know you don’t, luckily for you I do.  Focus, John.”  The ball was swing around a sixth time.  His apprentice’s frown lines were becoming deeper and deeper.  Sherlock had excelled at this exercise as a boy, mostly because he knew exactly what to look and listen for.  John was simply whining about hunger.

They had been training together for the past week together, and after quite a few hits and misses they found the perfect schedule for the pair.  John enjoyed reading, Sherlock enjoyed being alone, both needed to train.  Sherlock sat down with John and explained physical training would start at six each morning and go until eleven.  John immediately whined about breakfast, to which Sherlock informed him he would have to eat before.  John was torn between sleep and food.  Secondly, lessons would begin at two and go until four.  After this John had to leave Sherlock alone for at least three hours, he was allowed to do anything he pleased as long as he didn’t wander off.  Sundays both men were free to do what they pleased.

“Why must I do this, Master?”  John was taking a beating from the ball as it went in to over drive.  The boy grimaced painfully, but no tears fell.  He held his ground like a true Jedi.

“Because I said so," Sherlock said sternly.  He frowned at his own words.  Mirror, mirror on the wall, he was his master after all.  John was finally starting to deflect some shots, but nine out of ten times he was taking a shot to his small body.  The clock on the counter rang eleven and to John’s thankfulness the ball sank back into the ground.  He yanked his blindfold off.

“That was awful," he groaned.

“I’m being nice, padawan.  My master used to make me sit there until all shots were blocked.”  Sherlock took the young boy’s training saber and blindfold from him.

“Why am I free, Master?”

Sherlock sank back onto the couch and in an even tone said, “Because I’m bored, little one.” He reached lazily out with the force and caused his padawan’s light saber to float a few inches in front of his face.  John watched it closely.

“That’s rude, Master," John said, slowly inching towards his saber.

“It’s honesty, little one.  It is a valuable asset as a Jedi.  We never lie.”  Sherlock smirked silently as he watched John trying sneak closer to him.  John’s eyes were shining as he crept closer, his lips were betraying a hidden smile.

“You never lie, Master?”  John asked disbelieving.  He was getting within snatching distance of his saber.

“Never.  Even when I lie, I’m telling the truth.”  Sherlock closed his eyes in his usual cocky manner.  John inched forward eagerly.

“That is a paradox, Master.”  John pointed out.  At last he was in range.  He held his breath, his body tensed.  The little boy made a mad lunge for his floating light saber, which Sherlock easily lifted higher into the air.  John crashed onto the couch next to his master.

“Yes it is little one.  May the force be with you.”

He rose from the couch after dropping his padawan’s light saber back to the ground.  John was hanging upside down on the back side of the couch with his feet drooping into his face.  He frowned heavily as Sherlock ascended the stairs from the training room.  He wiggled into an upright position and listened to his master’s heavy tread.  He fingered the hilt of his saber absent mindedly.

He didn’t know what to think of Sherlock.  He was comforting, but he was usually cold.  He was firm, but he could be gentle.  He was polite, but only when it suited him.  He cared for John, but sometimes he was neglecting.  He was never warm, but sometimes he was kind.  He tucked John in every night, but for three hours after four o’clock he forgot John existed.  Sherlock was one big paradox himself. 

But despite all of his flaws John felt safe with his master.

John scampered up the stairs quickly.  His master stood in the kitchen leaning over the burner, John could hear a pot whistling.  The smell of tea hit John’s nose, the small boy giggled.  Sherlock would eat nothing, but if he didn’t have tea in his belly every two hours he was an absolute grump.  John made his way until he was pressed against his master leg, Sherlock absent mindedly reached down to card his hand through John’s sweaty blond hair.

“We need to go into the village today, little one," Sherlock said as he poured a cup for himself and his padawan.  He passed a cup down to the small boy, which was accepted gratefully.  John wiped his brow, his tiny body was exhausted from over use.  Sherlock could sense his padawan’s fatigue.  He was aggravated that John slowed him down, but how could he reasonably expect an eight year old to keep up with a Jedi knight.

He didn’t want to be reasonable.  He wanted to go into the village now.

 _Patience, my eager apprentice._   He could almost hear Lestrade laughing at him.  Sherlock had never understood how his master had been so patient with his apprentice.  In honor of his memory Sherlock would try to be patient with John.

“Rest, little one.  We can leave later this afternoon, when you are refreshed.”  Sherlock said evenly.  He was proud that he displayed none of his aggravation.  John was nodding gratefully.  “But do not think you are getting out of your lessons today.  I will quiz you on the ride into the village.”

John pouted at him.  “I know everything.”

“Padawan," he said warningly.

“Most everything," John corrected himself.

“Brat.”

John tackled his master’s leg playfully, Sherlock had braced himself upon sensing his padawan’s aggressive energy.  He picked the young boy up by the back of his shirt, John wiggled in his grasp.  “Master!”

“Yes, my underweight apprentice?”

“Put me down!”  John said indignantly.

“I am not holding you, little one.”  Sherlock showed John both his free hands.  “See.  Clearly it’s not me.”

“Master!”  John’s sweaty bangs fell into his face.  He squirmed uncomfortably in the air, Sherlock smiled.  John looked so young Sherlock nearly plucked him from the air just to hold him.  He would never admit it, but John’s adoration was not completely hated.  Infuriating at times, but others…

“Answer my questions little one.  I’ll let you down.”  Sherlock leaned against the counter sipping tea.  “Who founded the Jedi order?”

John answered.

“Who is the current highest ranking master?”

“Master Yoda, of course.”

“Who is the current highest held sword’s man?”

“Master Dooku?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you," John said unsurely.

Sherlock allowed John to sink slowly back to the ground.  John looked up at him with small annoyance.  “Told you, Master," he said smartly.

“You would do wise to learn humility, John.  You were not confident in your third answer, you did not tell me correctly.  Bring your lessons book, you will be studying not driving.”

John frowned, Sherlock had a way of making him feel incredibly stupid.  He interest shifted to his tiny feet.  “I did know some.”

“Irrelevant.  Go clean up.”

“Yes, Master," John said quietly, he looked completely defeated.  He turned to enter his room with his head bowed.  It wasn’t long before Sherlock heard the shower going.  He frowned. 

How could John not understand he was trying to teach him to be mindful?  The boy was too confident that he had the right in every situation.  Sherlock sighed, although sometimes he was right.  The shower stopped in the other room.  Sherlock entered the small boy’s room minutes later and heard the tiny boy speaking to his bear.

“He isn’t proud of me, Mako.  I don’t know what to do anymore…in my nightmare I’m sad because he isn’t proud of me.  I don’t mind so much.  I’m still little, but when I’m big he’ll be proud of me.  I’m still too little, no one’s proud of the little ones.”

Sherlock’s heart dropped into his stomach.  He was going unnoticed as his padawan rolled on his side with his bear held in his little arms.  Sherlock sat down slowly on the yielding mattress.  John twisted around surprised.  “Master?”

“You did alright with your questions, little one.  You just need confidence," Sherlock said softly, not gently, softly.

“Okay, Master.”  John said still too sadly for Sherlock’s liking.  The boy’s sadness was making him feel odd.

Not good odd.

“I am…John…I do care about you.”  Sherlock struggled with his emotions, however that  was the truth, Sherlock genuinely cared about the boy.

“I know, Master.” John said quietly.  “Thank you.”

“Little one, you are very…intelligent.”  He couldn’t say clever, not yet.  But John was very advanced for his age.  He reached out to card his hand through the now clean blond hair.  John shut his eyes and nestled into his master’s palm.  John picked Mako up and pressed him close to his chest, he sat up slowly.

“We don’t have a Jedi bond, sir.”  John muttered.  He squeezed his bear tighter and looked away from Sherlock in shame.  “Some of the others thought that if a master and padawan don’t bond right away…it means the apprentice is bad…”

There it was, the very not good odd feeling again.

“Is that what is troubling you, John?  You’re far too young for the bond, I was going to wait until you were at least ten.  Your body can hardly take five hours of training, I did not want to add stress to your mental state.”

“It’s not stressful!”  John protested.  “You’re my master, I want the same bond as every master and padawan have.”

“Little one," Sherlock said firmly.  John flinched.  With a soft sigh Sherlock continued,  “You will not be able to hide your emotions from me, nor your thoughts, until you learn how to control your mental shields.”  Not like the boy could do it anyway, but there would be no question if Sherlock allowed the bond to be formed.  “I will still be able to hide from you what I wish, but you will feel some of my emotions as well.  The bond will never die, little one. Three years ago I felt my master as he lay dying because the bond could not be severed.”

John’s eyes widened.  “I want the bond, Master.”

 _He wants the bond so he knows I won’t abandon him._    Sherlock realized painfully.  _Fine._

Sherlock reached forward slowly and placed his hand on the side of John’s face.  He placed his thumb in the center of the boy’s forehead, their eyes locked.  “Are you sure you won’t wait?”

“Yes, Master.”  The next move was John’s.  The bond could only be formed if the force guided John to react properly.  John’s left hand held the big hand on his forehead and his right rested over Sherlock’s heart.  

“John Watson from here on out there are three bound in obedience.  There is the teacher, the student, and the Force.  With this bond I, the elder one promise to lead you through the light, with my protection I will guide you on your path until you are strong enough to go alone.  And even then little one, I will still be with you in permanent bond.  The force binds us until the hereafter.  Are you sure this is what you want, little one?

I will not be a comforting master, nor an attentive one, but I will teach you.  I will protect you, and I will care for you.  This is all I can promise you, John.  I am not a kind, caring man, and nothing will change that.”

It was a lie, John was already starting to change him.  His force wavelength was different, it was becoming affectionate.  A foreign thing Sherlock had hated at one time, but as he looked at the small boy nodding eagerly before him.  He allowed the force to bind their souls, their minds, and whatever was left of Sherlock’s heart.

John slumped forward against his master’s chest.  Sherlock held him closely, slowly, unsurely he lay his padawan on his chest and closed his eyes.

“Good morning, little one.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Little one.”

“Yes, Master?”  John wiped his eyes sleepily.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to over sleep.”  He said after a glance to the clock.  It was nine o’clock…in the morning.  John had slept for twenty-two hours, over slept was an understatement.  His sky blue eyes met Sherlock’s ocean grey. 

“I expected you to sleep.  The bond took its toll on you, but it has been nearly a day now.  I need to go into the village, you will stay here and rest.”  Sherlock said as he swung a cloak around his shoulders.

“What?  No!  I’m coming too!”  John stumbled out of bed and quickly gathered up his clothes.  Sherlock must have pulled off his tunic and boots in the middle of the night.  He pulled on his shirt, only to find his head was sticking out his sleeve.

“Padawan, I did not wake you up to come with.”  Sherlock said decisively.  “I am meeting with a very dangerous man, you will stay here.”

“Why could I go yesterday?”  The padawan asked smartly.  He had righted his shirt and was yanking his boots on.  He felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Yesterday you were well rested, today you are disobedient.”  Sherlock said sternly, looking into the child’s eyes.  “I cannot take a young learner unarmed today, John.  Especially one who will not obey me.”  Sherlock turned towards the door.

“I will though, Master!  Please!  I can hide my saber, I don’t have to be unarmed!”

“Little one, I will not give you saber because you would be too eager to use it.  At the first sense of danger you would have it out.”  Sherlock was opening the front door.  He was curious to see his padawan’s reaction.  John was staring at him blankly, the bond between the two told Sherlock John was unbelievably confused.  Torn between obedience and being with his master, John sat back down his bed miserably.

Sherlock’s thin hand ghosted over the door’s control panel, the boy was obeying him.  Sherlock couldn’t believe it, at John’s age he would have simply snuck out.  He turned his attention to where the young boy’s cloak hung.  He ran his thumb over the course material, he let the shields in his mind drop so John could sense Sherlock’s acceptance of his company.

John looked at him unsure if he had felt correctly.  Sherlock said nothing, the little one had to learn to feel and believe.  There was too much doubt in his head.  Perhaps he’d begin teaching John the art of suggestions.  Just to make sure the meaning was caught Sherlock left the door open for his padawan to dart out of.

“I’m gonna drive!”  His apprentice rushed pass him.

“You are pushing your luck, little one!”  Sherlock felt a rush of joy across the shared bond.  He caught his apprentice by the top of his pack.  John squirmed viciously and tried to bite Sherlock several times.  Their new bond was a lit with laughter.

“Master!”  The child giggled. 

“You have much to learn.”  Sherlock smirked.  “Like saying please for example.”

“May I drive, Master?  _Please_.”  The word was stretched out in a teasing way.  Sherlock shook his impudent padawan.  John tried to sink his teeth into Sherlock’s hand.

“Did you bring your lessons to study, wretched one?”  Sherlock asked amused.

“Of course I did.”  The little boy pointed towards his pack.  “I am not stupid Master.”

“Yes, well, that remains to be seen.  Doesn’t it?”  Sherlock harassed the child.  The boy humphed. Sherlock chuckled.  “Yes, John.  You can drive, if you study while I visit with the Dark One.”

“The Dark One.”  John breathed.

“Yes.  I expect complete obedience from you, young one.”

Young one, not little one.  Sherlock was serious.

“I will, Master.  I promise.”  John’s eyes were wide.  Sherlock ruffled his hair as he was set down.  The feeling of affection crept into his chest.  Affection was not something Jedi were supposed to feel, as his brother always said, caring was not an advantage.  But as the tiny boy crawled into his lap he could no longer disguise his happiness with the child.

He scowled.

Emotions were, pointless, reckless, boring.

John beamed up at him.  “I will pay more attention to the force this time, Master.  I will not crash.”

“One miracle at a time, little one.”  Sherlock said quietly.

He allowed himself to mediate with the small boy driving.

Dangerous? 

Perhaps.

He focused on the emotional responses he had with his new apprentice.  Happiness?  Why was he happy?  The boy was often times unaware and an impossible nuisance.  He could walk into a room and immediately forget why he was had gone there.  A boy at one with force would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders.  Yet every time those large sky blue eyes looked at him, his hard heart softened.  He hated it.

Didn’t he?

Affection.  Affection was not a bad thing, but it was, in all technicality, forbidden.  But how could the Jedi council put a child in the lap of a parental figure and expect neither party to feel tenderness.  Sherlock scowled at the thought of sentiment, but it was undeniably there.  He would have to learn to hide, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Guilt.  John had a nasty way of making his master feel guilty after scolding the boy.  Guilt was something he could bury for a time, but it was not pleasant.  How could he teach the boy without a scolding every now and then?

“Master?”  John’s voice broke into his chain of thoughts.  He glanced down at his padawan, who was grinning like a manic.  “I didn’t crash, just like I said I wouldn’t.”  The boy said shyly.

“It seems you have performed your miracle, padawan.  Well done.”

John responded by wagging his tongue at the older man.  Sherlock pulled the young one’s hood over his eyes.  “Brat.”

“Yes, Master.”  The boy giggled. 

Affection.

Affection was a good odd feeling.

Sometimes.

“Come.”  He plopped the boy on the side of the speeder none to gently.  John was looking around nervously, almost as if he could sense the Dark One’s presence.  Sherlock exited the speeder and ran a hand through the boy’s bright blond hair.  “Tell me, John, which speeder is the Dark One’s?”

“That one.”  The boy said easily, pointing to a dark blue speeder next to the restaurant.  Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.  Simply stating which one was not good enough, John had to explain.  “Because it’s not completely covered in sand, it’s clean.”

“You assume the Dark One isn’t from around here.”  Sherlock said entertained.  He continued to card his hand through the boy’s hair.  John leaned into his touch gratefully.

“Mmhmm, you wouldn’t ask me if there was no difference, Master.”  John replied smartly.

Sherlock felt an odd twinge in his chest.

Pride?

He said nothing, only pulled the boy against his side.  John smiled a little as Sherlock reached out to him through their shared bond.  Sherlock allowed him to see the pride in his mind because physically he could not say it.

Would not say it.

 John sent his nervousness to be soothed across their bond, Sherlock responding with the dignity of a Jedi Knight and noogied the little boy.  John wrestled under his grip, his master chuckled.  They tussled, until John surrendered unhappily.  The boy began preparing himself for round two.

“We are going in now, John.”  He said quickly.  The boy nodded nervously.  “You swore to obey me, remember that.”

“Yes, Master.”  John said seriously.

“Remember in there it’s just Sherlock.”  Sherlock started steering the boy towards the door.  John’s heart was in his throat, he wished Sherlock would have allowed him to keep his saber.  The door to the restaurant opened and for a second John closed his eyes.  The padawan forced himself to breathe deeply as his master had instructed.  He could sense a great power, maybe an even greater power than Sherlock’s.  Although it was hard to tell because Sherlock usually hid his power.  He opened his eyes.

Mycroft.

The Dark One was Mycroft?

“Master?”  John temporally forgot he was supposed to refer to his master as Sherlock.

“Do not underestimate him, little one.  He’s an expert at humiliating fellow Jedi…and eating, he’s an expert at eating.”  Sherlock whispered, disappointment flashed across his mind’s eye.  He smiled.  “Were you hoping for a Sith, my little apprentice?”

“Yes.”  John said bluntly. 

“Patience, little one.  You are too ambitious, I would only allow you to come face to face with a Sith if no longer wanted you to breathe.”  Sherlock watched angry blue eyes look up at him.  “You are only eight, John.”

The boy scowled.  “Age means nothing, sir.  You yourself said…”

“I said your size did not matter when you are clever and since you are trying to mince words with your master you have not reached the level of clever.”

“I wasn’t trying to mince words.”  The boy grumbled sorely.  “I would not dare try to mince words with the man who forgets nothing but his padawan for three hours.”

“Shush, you speak from anger and disappoint.”  Sherlock once again tugged the boy’s hood over his eyes.  “Think wisely before you speak ill of the man who is paying for your breakfast, little one.”

“Yes, Master, you are right.  I speak solely out of disappoint from your horrible lies, may I have muja nectar with breakfast?”  John was becoming far too comfortable with his master, which caused him to become snippy.  Even still Sherlock could not help but smile at his padawan’s wit.

Mycroft was strolling over to the pair gracefully.  He nodded professionally at Sherlock and smiled at John.  “Hello, youngling.”

Sherlock was proud of how well John hid his dislike of the word “youngling” and smiled politely back.  “Hello, sir.”

“Mycroft do be careful what you say.  John and I are under cover after all.”  Sherlock hissed as steered the boy to a table.  John probed Sherlock’s mental shields carefully, Sherlock eventually let the boy peek at as his dislike of the older man.

“Is he really your brother, sir?”  John whispered to Sherlock. 

“Work on your lessons, John.”  Sherlock said with contained anger.

The boy pulled out his data-tablet grudgingly.  He glanced up at the angry master and huffed nosily.  He collected his drink as the waitress placed it in front of him with a small “thank you”.

“Yes, dear child.  Sherlock and I share a mother and father.”  Mycroft sipped his drink coolly.  John noted the anger that sprang across his bond with Sherlock.  He pulled his nectar glass closer to him.

“We were born seven years apart and did not learn of each other until I was eighteen.  That hardly counts as brothers, Mycroft.”  Sherlock said softly.

“Resentful as ever I see.”  Mycroft said smoothly.

“By the force… You know I am not.”  Sherlock’s response was gruff, John tapped his fingers on his master’s knee absent mindedly.  When he was very small it was how his mother calmed him.  Sherlock did not still him.  Mycroft sneered.

“Did Sherlock inform you why I came here today, young one?”  His eyes were still directed at Sherlock, John felt the force flowing towards each brother as if trying to decide which one was alpha. 

Mycroft was winning.

“No, sir.  It was…just a pleasant surprise, sir.”  His gently taps become a fist, which Sherlock barely caught in time.  There was a quick chuckle that flashed across the bond.  John smiled into his lessons.

Mycroft’s eye narrowed.  “Have the two of you forged a bond, Sherlock?”

“He _is_ my padawan, brother.”  It was Sherlock’s turn to sip his drink coolly.  Under the table both master and padawan were trying to playfully Charlie horse the other.  John’s tiny fist slipped pass Sherlock’s master defense.  To John’s dismay he didn’t even flinch.

“The council expressed their desire for you to wait.”  Mycroft’s voice was growing cold.

“Their desire, not their order.  I would have obeyed had it been forbidden.”  Sherlock said easily while kicking his boot gently against John’s leg.  The padawan squirmed and kicked back.

“This isn’t a game, Sherlock.  He is too young for the stress of the bond.  This a great mark down on your evaluation.”

“Evaluation?”  John squeaked.

“Mark down?  I hardly think that is necessary, I did not break any rules.”

Mycroft took several deep breaths to calm his anger.  “You are going down the road of your master I see.”  Sherlock’s anger broke through his normally emotionless face, Mycroft cut off his retort.  “Well then John, tell me what it’s like to live with Sherlock, hellish I imagine.”

John looked up at his master nervously.  Sherlock was not nearly as bad as Mycroft was making him out to be.  He felt a defensive lump in his throat, his master gently thumped his knee.  He heard the familiar baritone voice in his head.

_Don’t try to fight my battles for me, little one._

_Yes, Master._

“He’s fine.”  John tried to keep the coldness out of his voice.  “He can’t cook, but that is the only fault I can find in my master.”

“Little one.”  Sherlock warned.  “Do not lie when you are being tested.”

“Jedi do not lie, Master.  The do forgot to mention there is an important test though.”  John mumbled softly.  His master’s lips twitched.  “I enjoy his lessons, sir.  I have learned much, and I have much to learn.”  He looked at his master for approval and received an affectionate tap on the knee.  He beamed up at the older man.

“Do you feel safe with him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is he ever rude to you?”

“Every chance he gets, sir.”

That earned a smirk from Mycroft and a small wack from Sherlock.

“Has he told you about his master?”

“No, sir.  It is not my place to question him either, sir.”

“Do you ever wonder about it, young one?”

John looked to Sherlock.  His master’s lips formed a tight line, he seemed to barely reign in his anger.  Of course John wondered.  Sherlock never spoke of his master, John didn’t even know the name of his master’s master.  He frowned, would Sherlock hate him for asking for the name?

“Yes, sir.”  John said softly.

_Master, can I ask his name?_

_Only the name, nothing more, padawan._

_Why?_

_John._

_Sorry._

_Liar._

“What was his name, sir?”  John asked aloud.

“His name was Gregory Lestrade.  He was a very patient man, he took on your master when others wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Mycroft.”  Sherlock said with quiet rage.  John openly flinched.  He would have taken Sherlock’s loud raging rants over his silent fury any day.  The force began to shift in favor of the younger Holmes.  “Are we done here, brother?”  The words were harsh and bitter. 

Very un-Jedi like.

“No amount of your “suggestions” will make me leave yet my brother.  I will need to observe the boy’s training schedule.”  Mycroft rose easily.

“How appropriate, seeing as you interrupted it.”  Sherlock stood swiftly, urging John out.  The boy tried swallowed his nectar quickly and pack his lessons at the same time.  He grabbed his master’s sleeve in a silent plead to wait.  Sherlock picked the boy up by his arm pits and laid extra money down for the glass.  John clung to his cup as he was carried out.

“Thank you.”  He said with soft politeness of a child.

“I will see you back at your home, dear brother.  Try not to make me wait.”  The arrogant master walked gracefully out of the restaurant and stepped into a dark blue speeder.  Sherlock scowled after him until he felt a gentle pull on his ear.

“Told you it was the dark blue one.”  His padawan piped up.

“Humility is not your most prominent quality, is it?”  He chided the boy.

“I am learning from _you_ , Master.”  The boy said poked his master in the chest.

Sherlock snorted.  “Little one.”

The boy giggled.  “Sorry, Master.”

The familiar hood tugging over the small boy’s eyes followed by a deep chuckle and a quiet, “Insolent child.”

“Yes, Master.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating it by five chapters everyday.

Sherlock needed silence.

John was gratefully the bond shared his master's wishes and he heeded it with absolute quiet. He stole swift glances upward as his master drove the speeder on its lowest setting back to their small home. John gave a small cough. "Master Mycroft said not to make him wait, sir."

"Yes, little one. Unfortunately this blasted thing will not go any slower." Sherlock said evenly.

"Don't you mean faster?" John asked quickly.

"If I had meant it I would have said it, little one." Sherlock glanced at his padawan with the familiar look of a teacher. "I will rarely ever say anything I don't mean, it is the traits of a Jedi."

"Oh." John blushed a little. "Isn't it better to be kind at times, Master? Instead of being blunt?"

"You are suggesting lying, padawan. We've had this conversation before." Sherlock trained his eyes on the road.

"I'm sorry, Master. I see no reason to be rude to people…"

"Honesty is not rude, little one. Truthful words are not beautiful, beautiful words are not truthful, but the end result is always better when true words are heard."

"A man is never more truthful than when he acknowledges himself a liar, Master." His young padawan offered.

"Jedi do not lie, little one."

"Yes, Master." John said, sensing the conversation had reached its end. John trained his eyes on his boots, there was a speck of dust on the toes of his right boot. He brushed them off silently. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't mean to question your teachings."

"Little one, there is a time to trust and a time to question. I encourage you to ask questions, _occasionally_. You must become your own person after all."

"Master, I don't understand something…why are we given a master if we are encouraged to question them? Aren't masters supposed to be trusted and followed?"

"A person who follows any form of authority blindly is a fool, little one. Never forget that."

"Yes, Master." John meditated quietly on his master's words. "Since it is encouraged to ask questions, may I ask one more sir?"

"I said occasionally." Sherlock said pointedly.

"Yes, Master, and this is an occasion."

"Much sass I sense in you, my overconfident padawan." Sherlock said with a small chuckle.

"You are my guiding light and shining example in the art of sass, Master. Was Master Lestrade nice?" John asked innocently.

"Nice?" Sherlock sighed. "Is there a more educated word you can find in your vocabulary, my under developed apprentice."

John scowled. "Kind? Pleasant? Agreeable? Friendly? Welcoming? Forbearing? Patient?"

"Yes, little one. He was very kind, pleasant, agreeably, forbearing, patient, and friendly. It depended on the mood he was in if he was welcoming or not. My master was a great man, John. That is all you need to know."

"Yes, Master." John reflected on the kind old master, maybe one who had been Sherlock's father figure. Maybe one who taught him how to use a light saber as well as his own wit. Maybe Master Lestrade had been proud of Sherlock, maybe one day Sherlock would feel that pride towards his own padawan. He's thoughts drifted towards his own master and to what some of his caretakers had said when the discovered whose padawan he would be.

" _He's a freak! They can't give such a sweet boy to…to him!" Master Donovan had spewed. "John is too young, I thought they did not give children so young to masters for fear of attachment._ "

" _Shush, shush. He was always different, but he was a smart boy. And he cared for his master dearly." Master Gregson had defended him. "I have no idea why the Force guides these two together, but it must be accepted."_

" _He was never normal though, Master! He was dark! And now they're sending a promising young boy to be at his mercy!"_

" _Enough." The master said. "You are scaring the child."_

" _He's gone even more mental since Lestrade passed." Master Anderson mumbled._

John frowned as the thoughts scattered across his mind. Sherlock could feel confusion across his padawan's half of the bond. He reached across the seat and tugged the little boy's hood over his eyes. John gave the smallest half smile. "You are a good man too, Master."

"You have much to learn about good men if you count me as one of them, my little one." Sherlock said with more affection than he would have cared for.

"You are too hard on yourself, Master." John said kindly.

"And you are too innocent for your own good." His master rebuked.

The accused pulled his hood from his head only to have it reshoved over his eyes. "I am only eight, Master."

"So your lack of discipline reminds me every day." Sherlock was slowly beginning to find his good mood once again.

"What is your excuse for it, Master? Surely young age isn't a problem for you."

Sherlock twisted the wheel of the speeder rapidly, causing John to fall out the side. He hit the sand with a pain induced grunt. He rolled until his small body clashed with a familiar brown building. They were home. "I am terribly sorry my little one. My hand seems to have slipped."

"Of course, Master." The boy grumbled in defeat.

The elder smiled, he held out his hand graciously. The little boy took his master's hand, his betrayal forgotten as the padawan was pulled in close for a quick tussle. Sherlock was clearly holding back for the sake of the young one's pride, but John did manage a swift blow to the stomach that released any air trapped in Sherlock's lungs. The tussling came to a stop as a rare rain storm blew over head. John froze as the cold drops splashed down his back.

"Rain, Master?" The awestruck boy asked.

"Yes, it is rare here, but it seems to have graced us with an appearance today." The master opened his palm and felt rain soak into his hand. John had his face tilted back and was basking in the coolness of the water. Sherlock could feel pure joy radiating through the boy without even reaching out through his bond. "You enjoy the water?"

"Yes, Master. The stereotype of my home planet is we learn to swim before we can walk." John splashed in a newly formed puddle. Sherlock marveled at his padawan's youth and the joy the rain brought him.

"Little one." Sherlock muttered as the boy continued to pounce up in down in forming puddles. The master watched his younger dance in the rain until he felt Mycroft angrily pressing on his mind shields. It was long pass time to go inside. "John." He motioned to the door.

The child hesitated, he was torn between obedience and his momentary joy. "Yes, Master." He walked to his master's side slowly. Sherlock rested a hand on the boy's thin shoulders.

"We will have to stop at the swimming holes at Coruscant sometime." Sherlock said softly.

"I wasn't aware of the swimming holes, Master?" The boy allowed Sherlock to guide him indoors.

"Well formally they're called fountains, but my master always preferred to think of them as his own personal pool." He was rewarded with a small giggle.

"My, my, you two took your sweet time." The older master sat cross legged on the chair with a glass of alcohol in his hand.

"The storm held us up, brother." Sherlock said nonchalantly. John frowned, it wasn't really a lie. John had been distracted by the storm. _Even when I lie, I tell the truth._

_Yes, Master._

"The one that appeared four minutes before you walked in? Forgive me if I doubt you." Mycroft said snidely. "If you two are ready I'd like to view your training methods."

"Master Mycroft, why am I being tested?" The boy asked nervously.

"I am testing your master, youngling. To make sure you are compatible with each other and that you are meeting all your requirements."

"Oh." He looked to Sherlock, who waved him towards his room. He bowed to both his masters without another word and went to get his training gear. Sherlock watched Mycroft closely as the elder Holmes smirked at the padawan.

"He is very polite for a boy being raised by you, my little brother."

Sherlock said nothing, there was nothing to say that wouldn't prove his brother right.

"I do hope you don't ruin him." The elder master said sadly.

"As do I, brother." Sherlock mumbled.

"My dear Sherlock have you grown up in the past week?" Mycroft asked mockingly.

Before the younger Holmes could respond John darted out into the room, training light saber in hand. He looked towards his master nervously. Sherlock ushered the boy down stairs swiftly. "Focus on the here and now, little one. Don't let your nerves get the best of you, it's what he wants."

"I will try, Master."

"There is no try. There is do and do not." Sherlock muttered the little green midget's famous words.

Sherlock shed his robes swiftly. He knew Mycroft was an intolerable distraction to his padawan as John's nervousness radiated through there bond. He steadied the child with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Do you need to meditate first?"

"No, Master. Sparring will do me good." John said determinedly.

"Very well then." Sherlock pulled his light saber from his belt dramatically and activated it, a light green blade sprang out. "Unguard!"

"Thanks for the warning." John mumbled, raising his own light saber.

The two started slowly, with simple parrying. Sherlock set the pace to which John danced to. Sherlock allowed his mind shields to drop ever so slightly to see if the boy noticed. John began countering his attacks more often, proving that he had felt the gracious gift his master presented him with.

"You are not pushing him enough." Mycroft said shortly.

"It is a warm up." Sherlock responded in kind.

"Master, we can start the lesson properly if you'd like." John already sounded slightly winded to the older man, but the boy needed to learn his limits.

"Are you ready, little one?"

"Yes, Master."

The pace increased immensely, John could barely deflect his master's blows let alone attack. He danced around the older man, not daring to stand in only one place. Sweat pour into his eyes as his hair plastered to his forehead. Across their bond Sherlock could feel John's endurance slip. Immediately he slowed down, John backed away gratefully. "Breathe, John."

"Yes, Master."

"Find your second wind."

"Yes, Master."

"Focus."

"Yes, Master."

The pace increased again. John felt sparks from the clashing sabers fall on his neck. He flinched, allowing his master's saber to catch his arm. He screamed loudly. Sherlock deactivated the light saber, he did not run to the boy's aid, instead he sent soft, soothing waves across their bond. John rose back to his feet shakily.

"Do you need rest?" The master asked without sympathy.

"No." The boy said stubbornly.

"You understand you would have lost your arm."

"I do."

"Tell me what you did wrong."

"I allowed my body to feel pain at an inconvenient time. I did not focus, Master. I'm sorry." John bowed his head.

"Do not apologize to me, my arm doesn't feel the sting of the light saber." His master scolded.

"Yes, Master." The head dropped lower.

"Raise your light saber." Sherlock challenged.

"I…" John's arm refused to obey him. "I can't Master…"

"When I asked you if you needed a rest you should have accepted. Pride is not a tolerable trait in a Jedi, John." He reached forward before the boy could object and grabbed his arm. He ran his finger over the wound slowly. "I thought you could heal yourself, little one."

"The worse the wound, the harder it is to heal, Master." John sniffed so quietly Sherlock almost missed it. His free hand maneuvered the boy's chin upward. Blue eyes met blue eyes, Sherlock frowned at the tears. "I will not cry." John mumbled.

"Little one."

"Not in front of Mycroft."

"Little one."

"I won't, Master."

"My little one." Sherlock wiped the boy's tears away with the pad of his thumb. John stuck out a stiff upper lip, but the tears continued to fall. "Go rest, John. I am not angry with you. We will continue this when your arm is healed. No regrets, you learned a lesson today."

"Yes, Master." The child sniffed. He dragged himself quite sadly up the stairs to his room. Sherlock watched him go without a movement towards the boy, though it secretly killed him.

"His light saber skills have improved, but he is still below average." Mycroft said pointedly.

"For a normal age apprentice he below average, but for an eight year old his skill is advanced." Sherlock defended John shortly.

"You have grown attached to the boy." Mycroft strode closer to his younger brother.

"Leave me be, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice came out with the power of the force. Mycroft cringed.

"It won't work, Sherlock. Not even your gift will persuade a Jedi master." Mycroft gripped his shoulder almost painfully. "And you must learn to use it responsibly."

"If you are done trying to be Lestrade I _ask_ you to leave me be." Sherlock shrugged off the older man's grip. He turned on his heel and stalked towards the staircase, when he nearly crashed into John.

"Master! Mako is…" The tear stained face was too much to bare, Sherlock was forced to lift the boy into his arms. John sat in the crook of Sherlock's arm and rubbed his eyes briskly with his good arm. "My bear is gone…"

Sherlock glared down at Mycroft, who had the very nerve to shrug. Sherlock held onto to John's side and rubbed it soothingly. "Wait for me in your room." His voice was cold, but not towards John. "I will bring your bear back, please John. Go wait."

"I want to stay with you." The boy at last sounded his true age. He rested his forehead against his master's. "Please. Until Mako's back."

"You don't need me to feel comfort, little one. Feel the force, it will…" Fresh tears dropped onto Sherlock's cheek, they weren't his. John's shoulders slumped as prepared to be left by his master to fend for himself without his bear. Sherlock gave him a small squeeze. "Wait on the couch, I'm right here." He set the boy down on a resting sofa at the edge of the training center. With a disapproving sigh he turned back to Mycroft.

"My padawan seems to have lost something, Mycroft. Have you seen it?" Sherlock strolled over to the older man gracefully.

"How could your padawan lose something, dear brother? Jedi are not allowed personal items."

"I hardly think my padawan's teddy bear will cause him to turn to the Dark Side. Mycroft, just give it back to him." Sherlock said, both men were beginning to circle each other.

"I told you, that mind trick wouldn't work on me." The older man snarled.

"It was a request, Mycroft." Sherlock said with a bored tone. "I wasn't trying to suggest anything other than the return of my padawan's bear."

"Are you accusing me of theft, my brother?"

"If the boot fits." Sherlock said smartly.

The older Holmes sneered. "You seemed too infected with attachment towards your padawan to discipline him, I took the necessary steps for you."

"Mycroft, he's only eight." Sherlock drew his light saber, mirroring his brother's movements. Both light sabers were set to the lowest setting, it was not a violent duel. Just aggressive negations with a light saber over an eight year old's bear. John's eyes were wide.

"Best me and I will happily return the bear." Mycroft sneered. "I am beginning to fear your light saber skills have dwindled since you left the temple."

"Let me calm your fears." The younger man made a low swing at his brother's shins, Mycroft leapt of his head with ease. The two man clashed sabers. John had never seen anyone move so fast in his life. Blurs of blue and green light sabers were all he could see, hisses of the blade and snide remarks from his master were all he could hear.

"If you didn't cling to your master's old saber and used your own, your skill would increase." Mycroft was saying loudly over the hissing blades. A deadly arch of green nearly clipped his ear. "Do be careful, little brother."

The duel continued, John held his breathe as Sherlock jumped around Mycroft in a green blur. Both men seemed to come to a stale mate as their light sabers were held in place by the others, John was in awe. He was completely distracted until he felt a small tug at his belt and realized his training saber was flying into Mycroft's open hand.

"Master!" The boy called.

Sherlock heard him in time to catch the training blade with his bare hand. The hiss of flesh meeting saber made John's skin crawl. Sherlock barely cringed, his icy gaze stared deep into Mycroft's.

"The bear, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was full of commandment and authority.

"Mind suggestions won't work on me, Sherlock." The older man twisted the blade deeper into Sherlock hand. Pain was beginning to register across his face.

"It's not a suggestion, Mycroft." Sherlock voice became slightly warmer, more inviting to John. He pushed his light saber further against Mycroft's. "He's only eight, there is no harm. The bear, please." Sherlock's voice was luring John in close to him. It was all he could to keep himself planted and not run to the source of the glorious voice. Mycroft's face began to soften.

"Yield, Sherlock."

"Not without the bear." The smell of burning flesh hung in the air. Sherlock released the training saber, but as the blade collided with his leg Sherlock managed to twist his saber away from Mycroft's. He pressed it closely to his throat. "The bear." He insisted.

"Oh my brother, you are so attached to this boy you are willing to fight me for his prized bear."

"I don't need an excuse to fight you, Mycroft. The bear."

Mycroft nodded towards several packages set in the corner. "Top left."

Sherlock deactivated the saber, his body was strained but Mycroft looked worse for wear. He twisted his gaze towards the padawan. "Go." He dipped his head towards the boxes. John obeyed his master swiftly, he ruffled through the boxes and pulled his bear close to his chest.

_Go to your room, little one._

_Yes, Master. Thank you._

_We're not done yet, I doubt Mycroft will allow this offense without an agonizing lecture._

The boy turned to leave, his bear pressed against cheek. Sherlock smiled inwardly at the boy's renewed strength, even his arm seemed slightly more healed.

Sherlock felt a slight pressure against his mind shields that wasn't from John. Mycroft began probing him viciously. Sherlock shifted his gaze towards the interfering master angrily. "If there is a question you would like to ask Mycroft I request you voice it."

"Tell your padawan to stay here." Mycroft ordered. "I am not finished with his evaluation."

"Finish it when his arm has healed." The younger man waved him off. "I promised him rest until his arm has fixed itself."

"You must harden your heart my brother. He will never achieve strength if you pamper him." Mycroft reprimanded him.

"Mycroft, he is only eight." Sherlock scowled.

"John, stay here please." Mycroft commanded.

John looked towards his master and frowned as his master worried at his lip. "Go to your room, John." Sherlock was equally commanding, and he had loyalty on his side. John took a step towards the stairs.

"John you will stay here. Sherlock may be your master, but I out rank him." Mycroft pointed to place in front of him. His foot was tapping impatiently.

"John, your room. Wait for me." His master's voice was softer this time.

John looked pleadingly at the eldest master. "Please sir, he's my master."

"John, come here."

"He's my master." The boy shook his head while backing away. He was trembling with fear that Mycroft would fail his evaluation and he would be taken away from his master. "I'm sorry, sir." He darted up the stairs quickly.

"You don't deserve him." Mycroft said as soon as the boy was out of ear shot. "I should fail this evaluation now and have him transferred to a more suited master."

"Do as the force guides you, my brother." Sherlock muttered as he shoved pass the older Holmes. Mycroft sighed as his younger stomped up the stairs in a most un-Jedi way. He pulled out his comlink and called the council.

"My masters, Sherlock and his padawan have passed level one. I advocate they advance to the second level of evaluation."


	7. Chapter 7

"I cannot leave now, Master Windu."

"This is not up for debate Sherlock."

Sherlock glared at the comm in his hand, they could not go back to the temple, not now. John was dueling his favorite laser ball behind him. The boy had been at it for three weeks straight, his ambition drove him to push himself too far. His master was often the one to force him to stop, if it had been up to the boy, he would be at it for days at a time.

"Master please. I've gotten so close to discovering the Dark Acolyte's base, his plot, why he's on this Force forsaken place." Sherlock barely contained his anger. "Please don't make us leave at this critical time. John raise your guard!"

A muffled _yesmaster_ was heard in the back ground.

"Holmes, your homeless network can take care of it in your absence. You will not be gone long enough for the Acolyte's disciples to notice."

"I can only be gone for a few days at most." The dark haired knight said stubbornly. "John your guard!" The boy's response was gruff and stifled. "Do as I say Padawan!"

"You will be here for as long as the council instructs. That is an order. We expect you here with in two days." Master Windu was in no mood for Sherlock's attitude. He had hoped the boy would have adjusted his master's arrogance by now.

"Padawan!" The hologram Sherlock made a fast hand gesture. His apprentice squealed in the back ground. Master Windu could faintly make out a table flying across the threshold, chasing down the small boy. "We will be there, Master." The reluctant reply.

There was a swishing sound across the hologram. Sherlock twisted his head. "John, don't you dare. Padawan! Impudent brat!" The table had redirected itself at the Jedi Knight, Sherlock jumped backwards just in time to avoid the crashing table. The council master shook his head and disconnected the line.

"Little one." The Knight said firmly. His padawan managed to direct the laser ball at his master and was cackling evilly. "Son of a Sith. Little one!" His saber was activated, the shots were deflected at the padawan professionally. John whipped out his own training saber and reflected them back. The Jedi bounced shots between each other until they dissipated. John gave Sherlock a mischievous grin.

John wiped his sweaty hair from his face, his grin remained. "What did Master Windu want, Master?"

"We've been summoned back to the temple." Sherlock took a soothing breathe in. He reigned in his temper for his padawan's sake. The boy's grin slipped.

"What of Moran, Master?" He pushed his hair back as it fell into his eyes again, he slowly sank to the ground. He crossed his legs as if preparing for meditation.

"I will worry about that, little one. Not you."

"But Master, what if…" John began.

"Keep your mind on the present moment where it belongs, the future is not appropriate at this time. I will make arrangements for Moran, trust me."

"Yes, Master." The boy said miserably.

Sherlock sat in front of his apprentice gradually, he tugged on the boy's ear gently. John put his hand on his master knee and gave a small tap. Sherlock felt slight sadness across their bond, John had grown too accustom to Tatooine.

Perhaps time away was a good thing.

Sherlock activated a small holomap in his hand. The Jedi base often had to relocate due to the Hutts' constant attacks. They were getting consistently worse as the Hutts began to openly challenge the Republic. Sherlock frowned at the new location

"The Jedi base has moved." Sherlock thought aloud. "Into the thick of the sand people."

"So?" John said curiously.

"Your light saber." Sherlock rose swiftly. "Your proper light saber." He ran his hand through the boy's hair warmly as he took the boy's light saber from its hiding place. He returned to his padawan and motioned for him to rise. "I have been meditating on this for a long time, little one."

"Why, Master?" John stumbled upwards quickly. His eyes eagerly locked onto his new light saber.

"Because I don't want to give you this one." Sherlock muttered softly.

"Oh." The boy looked absolutely destroyed. "I understand, Master. I am not ready to have a proper light saber…"

"Ever the pessimistic. John, you are ready for a proper light saber, but I want you to make a choice." He knelt in front of the boy, the master's eyes stared into the apprentice's eyes. Sherlock unclipped the saber from his belt and held it out to the boy. "You can have the one Mycroft sent you or…"

"Master Lestrade's." John gasped.

"Yes, my master's saber. It is your decision to make, whatever you choose it will not affect how I feel about you, John. Let the force guide you." Sherlock held his master's saber in his right and Mycroft's in his left. John's eyes betrayed his overwhelmed feeling.

"May I hold Master Lestrade's first?" John asked with a small intake of breathe.

"No, little one. You must choose from feeling alone." Sherlock said, it was an experiment to him. It was interesting. John's eyes darted between the two sabers.

"Don't move, Master." The boy ordered quietly. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the command, but allowed John to do what he wanted. The boy unscrewed the bottom of Mycroft's light saber and pulled out the small, pocket knife sized saber. He dropped it in his pocket, he reached out and gripped Lestrade's light saber from his master's right hand.

The color was an interesting swirl of silver and black, there were no prominent grips on the side of it, but there were small dips for his finger. He traced the black swirls with his finger until it eventually ran into the silver, he fiddled with the button. "Thank you, Master." John mumbled tearfully. "Thank you."

"I've had it for much too long. It needs a new owner."

"Do I deserve it Master?" He stared into his master's eyes in desperate need of reassurance. "Are you sure Master Lestrade would want me to have it?"

"Little one, you must find that answer yourself." Sherlock carded his hand through the boy's hair. John needed to find confidence, there was too much doubt in his small head. "I promise you this; however, my master would not object to you having his light saber."

John nodded numbly, slowly he dropped to his knees. "I'm honored, Master."

Sherlock leaned forward and carefully rested his forehead against John's. Neither master nor apprentice said a word. There was nothing to say that the other could not feel. John blinked back tears as his master plucked him into the air by his arm pits. The master held his apprentice close to him. "We should get packed." He muttered in the boy's soft hair.

John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder softly. "Mmhmm." He agreed.

Sherlock set the boy down slowly, he watched John dash up the stairs happily. John's elation was shining through their bond, but so was his apprehension. He still doubted his worthiness of such a great gift. Sherlock did not soothe him, it was something the boy had to work out for himself.

Slowly the knight dropped to his knees in thought. He had been in possession of that light saber for three years to ease the pain of his grief, yet every time he activated it he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. It was not his light saber.

He felt the force shift around his former master's saber the moment John had gotten close to him. The saber urged Sherlock that it was time to let it go. It had a new wielder, a small eight year old boy with the heart as big as an ankkox. Lestrade's light saber was in good hands. Tiny hands, but trustworthy none the less.

Sherlock sighed heavily.

_What was this boy doing to him?_

He found his way back upstairs into their living space. John was nosily packing his things into his small back pack. He was humming an odd song that he claimed was his planet's most famous lullaby. To Sherlock the song sounded much too sad to be a lullaby, but it made John happy to hum it.

Sherlock silently listened to it as he threw his own things into a pack. The boy appeared in his doorway as he finished stuffing his clothes into a duffle bag. John snorted at the organization of the older man. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "Judge not, lest ye be judged, John."

"Did I say anything?" The tiny boy demanded.

"Little one." The master pushed pass him carefully. He slid the door shut on the surprised face of his tiny padawan.

"I didn't say anything!" John shouted defensively through the door. He slid the door open, his master was eyeing a data-pad. The corners of his lips were tilted up in a hidden smile. John rolled his eyes and grumbled about how his master wasn't even mad. Sherlock smirked.

"Lessons packed?"

"Of course, Master."

"Saber?"

John pointed to his hip. "Yes, Master."

"Bear?"

John pulled the stuffed animal from his pack and hugged it to him. "Check."

"Drive?"

"Yes, please." John pulled his robe off its hanger, he pulled it around his slender shoulders. Sherlock pulled his own robe from the adjacent hanger and plopped it over the boy's head teasingly. From beneath it came a young giggle. Sherlock held it over him until John whined he couldn't breathe. Sherlock reluctantly released his hostage.

"I'll hold on to your saber, John. At least until we're out of the village." Sherlock planted himself on one knee and held out his hand. John took a deep breath and swallowed his argument. He unclipped his light saber halfheartedly, his fingers wrapped around the hilt tightly. He pressed it into Sherlock's hand with a pained look. "It's only for a few hours, little one."

"I know, Master. It's just…" He gave the light saber a longing look. "It's mine."

"And I thank you for trusting me with it, Padawan. I promise you I will not abuse this trust."

"Yes, Master."

Sherlock leaned forward, their foreheads met. It was becoming a sort of acknowledgement between master and apprentice. Both Jedi began using it to say hello, goodbye, goodnight, good morning, and the occasional "it'll be alright". John sighed. "Yes, Master." He repeated.

"Come." Sherlock rose with a small hand motion towards the door. John scurried a head of him with his pack bobbing behind him. He turned with a lopsided grin and threw his pack in the back seat of the speeder. He bundled himself in the driver's seat and patiently waited.

_You don't deserve him._

Mycroft's words hit him like a grenade launcher.

_You don't deserve him._

Sherlock marveled at the irony, how people used to say the same thing to him about his master. According to most of his peers, he hadn't deserved anything that was kind, patient, affectionate, or warm. They were easy insults to shake, his master had told them they were spoken out of the misunderstanding of Sherlock's past. But John was different.

He did NOT deserve that look of adoration that so often crossed the boy's round face. He did not deserve that blind trust. John deserved better.

Much better.

_I do hope you don't ruin him._

"Master!" John called with fleeting patience.

Sherlock shook his head. "Just coming!"

The Force had given the boy to him. John was his padawan, _his_. But if John ever decided Sherlock wasn't enough for him, if he ever requested a new master, a good master, Sherlock would step aside with no argument.

He heaved John into the air as he slide into the driver's side and placed the child back into his lap. John was already pressing the activation buttons. His hands flew expertly over the controls, which was to be expected. He had been allowed to drive into town every trip. Sherlock rested his chin on the boy's head. "I'm tired." He muttered his complainant to an unsympathetic ear. John snorted.

"You should sleep more then. I've told you a million times to at least rest." The speeder began to hover off the ground.

"It seems I have much to learn, Master." Sherlock mocked quietly.

The boy bristled as the word "master" fell from Sherlock's lips. John shook his head at the jest, but said nothing. Sherlock could feel a thinking pattern form in his padawan's mind. John was concentrating hard on something, most likely a rule he had broken was about to be confessed…

"Master, why is affection forbidden?"

The question caught the master off guard. "It leads to the fear of loss, little one. It impairs our better judgment in situations where our loved ones are endanger. Jedi can't afford to have their judgment impaired. Sentiment is useless to a Jedi."

"Is all affection bad, Master?" The child clicked his boots together.

Sherlock pondered deeply. Affection for his master had brought Sherlock out of a dark time, it was his solid ground for a while. But as his master lie dying that affection had felt more like a terrible curse. "I suppose it depends on the attachment. Jedi are encouraged to have compassion which is a form of affection, but attachment can easily lead to distress. Be mindful of your feelings, John. Don't let them overcome you."

"But I can feel them?"

Sherlock hesitated. "I cannot stop you from feeling your emotions, but do not dwell over them."

"Yes, Master." John muttered.

"When we get into the village stop at Irene's." Sherlock instructed after a short while.

John's nose wrinkled. "I don't like her. She always makes faces at you, and she calls me Johnny. My name is John. J-O-H-N. My mother named me John, not Johnny."

"You are brooding, little one." Sherlock smiled at the child's irritation. "Clearly she does it to annoy you, don't be dull."

"I have just cause to brood, Master. I find it offensive that she refuses to acknowledge my real name." John took a corner much too fast. The bags nearly came out of the back seat.

"I find it offensive that you nearly dumped out my belongings. Slow down, eyes on the road, watch out for moisture farmers. You are playing the part of a normal eight year old boy, consider _Johnny_ your alter ego." Sherlock held John around his middle, the boy readjusted himself. The speeder slowed down slightly.

"Master, must we stop at Ms. Adler's?" John pleaded, he kept his eyes trained on the road. "Her aura is disgusting."

"Little one." Sherlock warned.

"Forgive me, Master…"

"Stay by me, it'll be alright." Sherlock said almost sternly. The boy looked doubtful.

Sherlock jerked the little boy slightly to the left causing the speeder to lurch to the side. John giggled. Sherlock jerked him to the right, and the boy let out a loud belly laugh. Joy flashed across their bond, for a brief second Sherlock convinced himself it was purely John's. Until the child gave a small jerk on the wheel of his own free will and sent master and pupil tumbling out of the speeder. The knight laughed with unexpected pleasure.

He made John let him drive for the duration of the trip. John continuously tried to grab the wheel from his master's hand. It became a game, the elder won easily. John sat beside him laughing hysterically.

Sherlock pulled the speeder next a familiar black building. John cringed as Sherlock put the brake on, the padawan folded his arm defiantly. "I'll wait here."

"I am not leaving a child, alone, unarmed, and unattended in the middle of Tatooine."

"You could give me my saber back." The boy grumbled, his good mood gone.

"Out, John."

"Traditionally the padawan is not required to follow the master into a treacherous mission."

"Traditionally the padawan does not speak ill towards their master."

The boy jumped out the side of the speeder. His frown lines deepened, there was nothing he wanted more than to stay in the speeder. The padawan glared angrily at the ground. "I have a bad feeling about this, Master."

"It will be short." Sherlock assured the disrespectful youth.

"Not short enough." The boy followed closely at his master's heels.


	8. Chapter 8

"Johnny!"

"Son of a Sith." The child muttered. "Hello Ms. Adler."

"Sherlock, sweetie, how naughty of you to bring your son here." She winked at the curly haired knight. Her shirt was cut so low John could look at his feet and still see her skin. His face flushed a deep scarlet. He took a step back so his back was pressed into Sherlock's leg. He glared upward at the woman, who was staring at Sherlock like he was a display in a Jedi archive.

"He's not my dad." John snapped.

Sherlock rested a steading hand on the boy's shoulder. "He isn't my son, Irene. Look at the irises and ears, genetic traits we don't share."

"Well it still wasn't very nice to bring a little boy to my parlor. Now we can't "talk"."

"There is nothing I came here to discuss that the boy can't hear."

"Poo." The woman whined. She sat in a throne looking chair and crossed her long legs. She pulled off her heels that looked suspiciously like knives at the bottom. The boy stiffened.

"Little one." Sherlock said firmly. "Irene I need what you owe me." He covered the boy's ears, but a muffled _crystal_ through the thin hands. "Now."

"I owe you nothing, darling. You haven't finished my payment yet." Irene batted her eyes, and John cringed at the way she said "payment". She exited the room gracefully, he hips bobbed seductively behind her. Sherlock huffed loudly.

John took a gamble, he was supposed to be acting like a simple eight year old anyway. He buried his face in Sherlock's leg.

He wanted to leave now.

He felt his master's disapproval through their bond, but chose to ignore it. He gripped the loose pants in both hands and pulled the fabric around his face. His master gently pulled on the spiked hair, forcing John to look at him. He raised his eyebrows.

_I'm just playing the part of Johnny, Master. As you suggested._

_You are mincing words with me again._

_I am obeying your orders Master._

Sherlock gave a small tug on the boy's hair. The child giggled, he pressed his face back against the strong leg. Sherlock shook his head, but ran his hand through the small child's hair. He gave his padawan's ear a gentle tug. "You really don't like it here?" He muttered.

"It gives me a bad feeling, that's all, Mas…Sherlock." He pressed himself deeper into his master's side. The older man lifted the small child into his arms.

"A wise man faces his discomforts head on. You are doing well, little one." Sherlock set him down as Irene reentered, his master was not a man to show affection in public, which made it more special whenever John was given warmth. Irene was holding out a blood red crystal. Sherlock held out his hand with a small scowl.

Irene held it above her head. "Ah ah ah. My payment?"

"I am on my way to get, if you'd be so kind as to give me proper information this time it's all yours." Sherlock open and closed his finger. The blood crystal was passed between the two adults, Sherlock dropped it in a small pouch. He pushed John towards the door when the woman reached out and snatched the knight's wrist.

"If you ever want to come back without the kid, I would be willing to take something other than republic credits."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Republic credits will do fine."

She smirked at him and to John's surprise she touched his chest. Sherlock gave John a gently shove towards the exit. "Go." John shook his head fiercely, he hid behind the older man's leg. "John." Sherlock snapped.

"No." John said childishly.

"Outside."

"No."

"Johnny…" Irene knelt in front of the boy, her shirt fell even farther down her chest. "The adults want to talk."

"No!" He grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged him towards the door. "Please, you got what you wanted. Please don't leave me alone in the middle of Tatooine, unarmed and unattended. I'm scared, Uncle!"

_Padawan, this is a direct order. Wait for me outside._

_Jedi aren't allowed to…_

_Enough. You've disrespected me enough by not accepting my orders, I will not tolerate your blatant disrespect by assuming I will break the code's orders. Outside, now._

John whimpered. "Please, Sherlock."

"Now." His voice was deadly.

"Yes, sir." The boy shuffled out sadly.

"He's a good boy." Irene purred as she draped herself around the tall knight. Sherlock was nodding as he watched John make his way down the stairs. He gently separated himself from the harlot. He put his hand out demandingly.

"The real one."

She slid him a seductive glare. "I don't know what…"

"Skin cannot touch the blood crystals. The real one."

"Say please."

"Irene."

She pulled out a small pouch that glowed a dark red. Slowly she tied it to his belt, she slipped him a sly smile. "Your son is waiting for you."

"He's not my son." Sherlock stalked towards the door swiftly. "And his name is John!"

oOo

They sat in awkward silence for what felt like hours.

Sherlock kept his eyes trained a head, his knuckles were white on the wheel. John sat with his hands deep in his lap, tears were threatening to fall from his eyes. He gave a small sniffle. His master ignored him. John bowed his head, his confidence was shattered. He deserved everything his master was giving him.

"Here, youngling." Sherlock dropped the light saber into the boy's lap. John bristled at the insulting word, but accepted the abuse. He gave a small thanks and clipped it to his belt. He reached to the floor and picked up his bear.

"John, what were you thinking?" Sherlock demanded.

He buried his face in Mako's fur. "I don't know, Master."

"Clearly you do know. Do you want to add further insult, padawan?" Sherlock was attacking his apprentice viscously.

"Master…I don't…"

"John."

"I thought she'd turn you in to the Dark Acolyte!" He shouted viscously.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would Irene…"

"Because that's where she got the crystal from, she's one of your informants! Please, if you don't want me to insult your intelligence don't insult mine!"

"Enough, little one!" Sherlock proved he could raise his voice as well.

"What if something happens to you, Master?!" The boy cried.

"You will be taken care of, John. Keep your mind on the pre..."

"I don't care about myself!" The boy's tears were bitter. "Master, please don't think me selfish and please forgive my outburst, but I worry…"

The speeder came to a sudden halt. The master looked at the apprentice wearily. "The elder protects the young, John. You know this. And I do it willingly, I cannot protect you if you are constantly trying to protect me. It will not work. It cannot work. You must let go of this emotion."

The boy's eyes were full of tears. "I don't want to."

Sherlock stared at his little reflection. Lestrade had argued with him until the older man's everlasting patience finally gave out. He could not shake Sherlock's attachment, maybe he hadn't wanted to. The shouting match had ended with Sherlock hiding on the roof angrily. Lestrade had found him three days later, starving, tired, dehydrated, and ill. He had to wrap Sherlock in his robe and carry the twelve year off the roof. Sherlock glanced at John, he didn't want the boy to feel the same pain he felt when Lestrade had at last shouted at him.

"Come here." Sherlock motioned for the boy to sit with him. John crawled into his lap and laid his head on the older man's chest. "Promise me you will stop this nonsense." He said quietly.

"I don't want to lose anyone." John choked.

"You won't, John. You must trust me to protect myself. I will protect you as well, if you stop annoying me so much." The elder teased. John nuzzled deep into his chest, he wrapped his hand in his master's outer tunic. Sherlock accelerated the speeder with John balanced on his chest, the boy calmed himself by clinging to his master and his bear.

The sand people gave them no grief, John fell asleep within five minutes of their argument, he hadn't been able to sleep for weeks with nightmares. The boy took deep soothing breaths, Sherlock marveled at the little figure. How could anything that small make such a difference in him. He felt a pang of regret as he shook the sleeping child awake. John's blue eyes blinked rapidly.

Sherlock pulled the bags from the back and gave John his pack. The padawan took it gratefully, he placed his bear in it silently. Sherlock slung his duffel over his shoulders, he ran a hand over his face tiredly. He was glad for a four hour flight, he decided it would be wise to obey his padawan for once and sleep.

"Master…" John piped up. "Am I forgiven?"

Sherlock carded his hand through John's soft hair. "There is nothing to forgive, padawan."

"I was disrespectful! There is everything to forgive. I'm sorry. Oof!" John's eyes were covered by the course material of his hood.

John pulled the hood away from his eyes, but the frown was gone. His grin lit up his whole face, Sherlock smiled back. "If it makes you feel better little one, you were forgiven the moment the deed was over."

"Thank you." The boy tugged on Sherlock's sleeve until the older man knelt. Quite against the Jedi code the boy wrapped his thin arms around the knight's neck. Sherlock faltered, the boy's grasp tightened. Sherlock wrapped his arm around the boy's middle and hoisted him into the air.

"Be mindful of your feelings, little one. This much loyalty is a dangerous thing." Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's.

"I know, Master. You've said it before."

"And it hasn't changed your mind."

"No, Master."

"Stubborn."

" _Your_ padawan."

Sherlock rubbed the tiny boy's back in slow soothing circles. "I am ruining you, aren't I?"

"No, Master!"

"Yes, Padawan!" Sherlock cried with the same appealed tone.

John put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. "No, Master. No. No. No."

Sherlock sat the child down with his hand rested on his apprentice's head. He tugged his long fingers through the blond hair until it stood up at odd angles. John led the knight into the hangar bay giggling fiercely. They loaded themselves into a decent sized shuttle that thankfully had two beds. Sherlock rolled into the bottom bunk after a quick word with the pilot.

John wormed his way into the top bunk. Sherlock used the force to pass him up his bear, John gave a small "thank you" as the bear landed on his chest.

"What did you ask the pilot, Master?"

"For a small detour, little one."

"Why?"

"Because I'm sorry too."

oOo

John was dreaming again.

"You promised me you would stay out of it, Sherlock." A grey haired man was forcing a young boy to sit on a couch in the middle of a Jedi quarters. The older man was pulling out a med kit.

"He was gonna wallop you!" The curly haired boy protested. He had a bloody gash from his eye to his nose, his eyes were bright with anger. His silver haired master dabbed at it with bacta ointment "I told you to duck, Master. I told you exactly what was gonna happen, but you weren't listening. I said, _I said_ he was going throw a punch, and he threw a punch."

"Shut up, Sherlock. Force's sake, look at you. If I take you to the healers they'll be convinced I abuse you. What on Yoda's green Naboo possessed you to jump in front of an armed guard?"

"You weren't listening to me! He was going to…"

"Padawan." The older man snapped. For once the apprentice fell silent, his hands rested in his lap, it was the boy's nervous twitch. He scowled at his thin hands.

"I didn't want him to hit you." The boy mumbled.

"That doesn't give you cause to shield me, kid." Lestrade dabbed at the cut more gently. Sherlock still flinched under the gentle pressure.

"You weren't listening." He sniffed. "I was right, but you wouldn't listen."

"No, I was giving him the benefit of the doubt." The master spoke with earned wisdom.

"But clearly he was going to swing! Couldn't you see it, Master?"

"Sherlock, it is not your place to protect me. Remember this." He bandaged the cut carefully. "If someone is going to hit me let me suffer for my insolence. Do not take the shot for me."

"But…"

"No, Sherlock. The elder protects the younger, last I checked you were the younger." The master placed a tender hand on Sherlock's head.

"What if he had walloped you in the temple?" Sherlock demanded, holding the hand a few inches above his head. "What if you had died, Master?"

"I have made arrangements for you if something happens to me." Lestrade put pressure on the two hands hold his up. His larger hand met black curls once again. "You would not go back, Sherlock."

"You insult me by thinking my fear is for myself." The boy said crossly.

"You've insulted me already, by assuming I can't take a punch from a man who hits like a youngling."

Sherlock bowed his head, clearly swallowing anger. "Forgive me, Master. I thought you shared my attachment."

"You know I do." The master assured gently. "That is why we are having this argument, kiddo. I can't stand to see you hurt because of a punch intended for me."

"If you had listened to me we wouldn't be arguing."

"Sherlock…" The patience was starting to break.

"It's the truth!"

"What would you have had me done, padawan? Duck without cause in front of the queen of Naboo, punch him first, did it occur to you that I was waiting him out, Sherlock!?" The master at last raised his voice.

"You didn't tell me." The boy said bitterly.

"I made the mistake of thinking you trusted me." Lestrade muttered cruelly. He rose silently. "I have much to learn." He left the room without another word.

Sherlock watched him go, every fiber of his being but his pride wanted to call his master back and beg forgiveness. He knew what it was like to be hit, it was awful. He just didn't want Lestrade to be hit.

He pulled his head between his knees and took a shaking breath in. He swore over and over in his mind until he convulsed on the floor. He left the vomit in the middle of his master's quarters and did what he did best.

He hid.

Because he couldn't do anything else right.

It took two hours before the probing of his mind shield began. Lestrade was looking for him, he thickened his mind shields and cried silently.

Because he was a freak.

Because he was dark.

Because if he really loved his master he'd pitch himself off the roof and let older man get a proper padawan.

He mediated for three days. Jumping was not the Jedi way, but he was so conflicted he just wanted to scream. He was only twelve, he shouldn't feel that alone, unless he was dark.

He was dark.

Oh Force, he was dark.

Sherlock sobbed harder. His body shook, but no tears came out of his dehydrated body.

Warmth spread over his shoulders unexpectedly. He felt himself being scooped into the air and bundled in a familiar smelling robe. He turned his head into his master's chest. "Forgive me, Master."

"Shhh." Lestrade's voice was firm. "You were forgiven the minute the deed was over."

"You should have left me in that cell." The boy cried.

"I would have rather died a thousand deaths." He said steadily. He pulled the boy to his chest. "Sherlock, I was so worried about you. You shouldn't have shielded from me."

"I'm sorry." He hiccupped.

"Shut up, I wasn't looking for an apology. You know I wasn't. I wanted you to know I was worried about you, Sherlock. I share your damn attachment, please don't accuse me of not again."

"Why? I'm dark." He pressed his forehead into the strong bicep.

"You are the furthest thing from dark." Lestrade laid the boy in his bunk. "Stay." He ordered. Sherlock curled into a ball and waited obediently. His master came back with a water glass and commanded him to drink. He sat up slowly, Lestrade pressed the cup to his lips.

"I'm dark." The boy said again.

"Why?" The master made him take another sip.

"You know why." He snapped.

"Enlighten me." He set the glass aside. He pulled the thin boy against his chest and made him lie still. "Do you want to be dark?"

"No." The young sob came swiftly. "But Master…"

"Then focus on everything you consider dark about yourself and improve upon them." Lestrade murmured into his hair. "I told you this before my padawan, a man who chooses dark can chose light again."

"If he is not fully dark already."

"Oh, my little one, you are far from fully dark. You are the light, my light, Qui Gon's light, Tahl's light, Yoda's light, and John's light."

"Who is John, Master?" Sherlock yawned.

"We will find, little one. We will find out."


	9. Chapter 9

They landed after only a two hour flight.

"Keep your eyes closed." The elder.

"Why?" The younger. His master had told him to strip down to his pants as he did the same. He threw their sabers into the pile of clothes and passed the boy a blaster. This was another planet Jedi were not well loved on. John's curiosity was getting the better of him.

Sherlock yanked the boy into the air and gave him a small squeeze. "Padawan." The master gave him a sharp warning. He climbed out of the shuttle with his hand over the boy's eyes. John squirmed in his grip.

"Master?" The child was sniffing the air. The aroma of sea salt was incredibly rich on Stewjon, the grass was dark green and came up to his knees, the sky was an incredible blue, everything about that planet screamed John. The boy was grabbing his master's fingers as he began to recognize the scent of his home planet. "Master!"

Sherlock let the boy see the green field they stood in. His childish pleasure was immediate, he gave Sherlock the most strangling embrace he had ever received. Sherlock gave a surprised huff as John thanked him repeatedly. Affection was creeping into his chest again. He threw the boy over his shoulder and made a force dash towards the nearest body of water. The boy was yelling his name over and over. Sherlock threw the boy with all his might into the sea, John gave a loud shout of joy.

The boy skipped across the surface several times before dropping under. He reemerged waving like a manic. "Master!" A force propelled wave knocked into the knight's face. Sherlock fell back laughing. He yanked off his boots and stashed the blaster inside. John swam ashore swiftly mimicking his master. They threw their boots next to the walls of a cliff that circled the shore. Sherlock threw him back into the cool sea.

John began thrusting waves in Sherlock's direction trying to bring the older man under. Sherlock countered them all easily, blasting his padawan back with waves of his own. At last he lowered his guard enough for John to drag him into the sea. The boy jumped on his shoulders in an attempt to bring him under.

Sherlock's hands found his tiny waist and hoisted him into the air. He threw the small boy away from him listening to the sound of joyous laughter. John's head bobbed above water for a few seconds before vanishing. Sherlock waited.

A mighty tug dragged him under, until he came face to face with a beaming padawan. Sherlock crushed the little boy to him and did a back flip out of the water. They landed back in the center of the shore with both men laughing fiercely.

John, who was still crushed in Sherlock's embrace, rested his head on the tall knight's shoulder. "Thank you."

"We aren't done with that discussion, John. I am your protector, you are not mine. Promise me." Sherlock held the boy tighter. He could feel returning distress their bond. "At least until you are a knight yourself, promise me."

John looked at him with sad blue eyes. "You've always protected everyone though. Even Master Lestrade, someone needs to protect you."

"Who told you that?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"I had a dream…and Mycroft told me you always protected people, even if they didn't like you." He looked into Sherlock's ocean blue eyes. "I want to be like that, like a good man." He rested his head back on Sherlock's shoulder.

"John, promise me." He rested his cheek on John's head. "My little one, promise me, until you are older."

"If you promise to let me help you with other things." The boy said decidedly. "Then I promise you, Master."

"I promise." Sherlock said softly. He rocked the boy briefly before flinging him back into the sea. John submerged laughing.

Sherlock braced himself to follow the child in when a cold voice behind him spoke cruelly. "I hope you weren't planning on jumping in my father's lake." Rough hands seized him and forced him to his knees. "But judging by your appearance you have been enjoying yourself for quite some time."

 _Blast it. This was exactly was sentiment was unacceptable._ He had been too distracted by John to sense impending danger. _John, stay under._

The response was immediately panicked. _Why? What's wrong?_

_Stay under, I'm going to try to negotiate with someone. That's all._

_Master!_

_Little one, your promise. I can handle this._

_But…_

_If you come up I may not be able to focus on the negotiations. You will stay under, this is a direct order._

_Yes, Master._

Sherlock bowed his head, but threw his senses out wide. Two guards and an annoyed female, maybe age twenty, higher up in society going by her earlier comments, long blond hair, blue eyes signature of the Stewjon race, carried an electric whip.

_Perfect._

"You're not from around here." The female murmured.

"Oh yes, very observant. How long did it take you come up with that…" She kicked him in the stomach.

So much for negotiations.

She towered over him. "A man your position should be more polite."

"A man in my position should get to know his captors before deciding if they are with a daring escape or politeness." Sherlock's wit was a blaze. Her hand strayed to her whip, and he sighed. Daring escape it was, he could no doubt lead them away from the lake. He would return for John after they had been out run and completely worn down. He tensed his muscles.

"My princess!" One of the guards was holding up a small pair of boots. "He's got a pup out there too."

 _Chisszk, chisszk, chisszk_. He swore in Huttese. _I can't leave if they are searching for John. Poodoo!_

"Is there a pup? We must bring him in for punishment as well." The female was cruel, Sherlock met her gaze coldly.

"My pup is only eight." He said harshly.

"Should have chosen politeness then." She smirked.

"If that is your punishment," he nodded his head towards the whip, "I will take his. Add it to mine."

She pondered this. John was probing his mind shields in desperate search of news.

_Stay down there, padawan. It's being handled._

"My pup is from your planet, I am not. I brought him here because he enjoys swimming, I didn't know it was trespassing in this place. Don't punish him because his father is an arrogant sod, please." The "please" damaged the knight's pride, but he had been on the end of those whips many times in his youth. His padawan would not go through the same.

"You admit yourself a fool?" The female kicked his injured pride.

"I admit I do not want my pup whipped for my arrogance. I am a show off, it's what I do. Where is your justice? You would whip a little boy because his father is hundark?" The female flinched at his choice of words. "If the only apology you will accept is a bloody back, I will give it. Not my boy."

_Damn you, John. Damn you for making me soft._

The boy had made him apologize for every rude thing he had said in the past month under penalty of temper tantrum. It was horrible for him to be so clever and have to apologize for it, but John's mighty wailing was worse.

"The punishment for trespassing is five lashes, since you are taking your pup's it will be ten." The female decided. The guards hoisted him to his feet and released his arms. "Put your hands against the cliffs walls, if you make a move to escape we will search for your pup."

_Interesting rule._

He spread his hands on the walls of the rugged cliff and presented his back to the female. She let out a low gasp, his back was already heavily scarred from boyhood. He shrugged, Lestrade and John had reacted the same way, but they would not discuss it. "Get it over with."

The first time wasn't nearly as bad as he remembered it. His shields were fully tightened against his padawan's probing. The second and third whip crashed over his back, he forced himself to breathe through his nose. He refused to give them the satisfaction of his cries of pain. The fourth clipped his ear, but he simply bit his lip. The fifth sent blood down his legs, he grunted painfully.

"That was your five." The female said with undisguised dominance.

"Have we started?" Sherlock asked innocently.

The sixth and seventh hurt like a Sith. He dropped to his knees, but kept his hands in place. If had been a normal man he would have been unconscious. His lip started bleeding as he clamped down harder on it. Eighth, ninth. _John, think of John._ The tenth crashed mercilessly between his shoulder blades. He leaned his shoulder into the wall, his breathing was labored.

"Call your pup." She commanded forcefully.

"When you're safely out reach I will." He said through clenched teeth. He could barely stand.

"You don't trust me?" She said slyly.

"Forgive me, I am an over protective father." He clawed his way onto his feet. "I don't want to give him the opportunity to sound like me."

"A wise answer." The female smirked. She said something in a language Sherlock didn't understand, the guards began to depart. She stared at the dark hair knight's muscular back, blood coursed freely from it. "Your pup is lucky to have a strong father." Her voice changed into a deeper tone.

"My pup will be lucky if I can take him home tonight with my back in shreds." He scowled. The healers were going a have field day, Rica was going to kill him for coming home injured.

Again.

The female stared at him for a long time, clearly enjoying her dominance. Sherlock scowled, he was a Jedi knight. He could easily outmatch a stupid girl, it was his fear for John that kept his mouth shut. She turned on her heel, her blond hair swishing behind her. Sherlock leaned into the wall.

_Not yet, John._

He waited until he could no longer sense the female's presence before he called to John. The boy emerged the moment his name was called. The look of pain on his face was almost unbearable as he swam ashore. Sherlock sat down on the bank and crossed his legs. The padawan sat across from his master with his head bowed.

"Are you alright?" He sniffed.

"Pleased." Sherlock said softly. He rested a hand on the boy's head. "You kept your promise."

"I didn't want to." The boy mumbled.

"I could stand it, John. For you it would have been unbearable." Sherlock assured him. "And that would have made it worse for me."

"Yes, Master." John sniffed. "But you promised I could help you, so sit still."

oOo

Harriet watched the pup swim to shore.

He was clearly from their planet. His hair was dirty blond, and his eyes were sky blue. He sat across from his father with his head deeply bowed as though the whole thing was his fault. The father placed a hand on the tiny tot's head.

Eight? The boy was lucky to look six.

They were speaking in hushed tones, the pup rose and was running away from his father while shouting something back at him. The dark haired father yelled at the pup and threw a boot at him, but was laughing all the same.

The man was laughing after being brutally whipped?

Harriet studied him from her hiding place. He was an incredibly attractive man, coupled with the incredibly strength of will. He would have made a marvelous mate, maybe one her father would approve of and allow to rule with her. It would take an unbelievably strong mate to convince her father to let her rule.

But the man had a pup already, he hadn't mentioned the pup's mother. But why would he mention his mate to his torturers? Then again why would he bring the pup this far away from its mother?

The pup was returning with a medical kit, the father was already telling the pup off in a mocking way. The abuse was ignored as the child knelt behind his father's back and dabbed at with some kind of ointment. The father cringed. She heard the man tell the pup to get lost, but the child was persistent.

The father grabbed the child around the middle and pulled him into his lap. The pup was laughing loudly, while the father tickled him mercilessly. He flipped the pup upside down and tickled his stomach. The pup was shouting for him to stop, but the father simply flung him over his shoulder and made his way to their ship.

Ten lashes with an electric whip and he could still carry his pup across the fields?

Strong, unbelievably strong.

The pup wiggled uncomfortably, he barked at his father viscously. Eventually he submitted into his father's grasp. The boy huffed and whined until he was finally out of ear shot.

Harriet Watson slid down from her hiding place with a small grunt. The pup had looked insanely familiar, but she couldn't place from where.

Perhaps the gods would bring them together again.


	10. Chapter 10

John made Sherlock bind his back.

The tall master obeyed his padawan grudgingly, he bandaged his back under the watchful eye of John. He allowed the boy to examine his wounds. John scowled into the badly dressed gashes.

"Little one." The knight said glumly. "I will be fine."

"You should see a healer." The child grumped.

"Dull." Sherlock droned.

The knight pulled his young padawan in front of him, the boy was pouting up at the tall man. "Please, Master?"

The ship began its descent into the hanger bay. Sherlock rose uneasily, John scowled at him angrily. Sherlock pulled the hood over the young boy's eyes and shouldered his duffel bag. Pain ripped through his shoulder blades, but he did not flinch for John's sake. The boy would not look at him.

"John."

The boy waited by the door without a word.

"John."

Silence.

"Little one."

"You should see a healer." The child whined.

Sherlock rested his hand on John's shoulder. He gave it a strong squeeze and made the boy look at him. The master knelt to look in his padawan's defiant blue eyes. John dropped his gaze respectfully until his master caught his chin and made him look. "Let me suffer for my impertinence, don't dwell on my wellbeing, John."

"So I should not dwell on your moronic decisions?" The boy asked innocently.

"The only moronic decision I made was accepting your apprenticeship, despicable brat." The tall knight teased.

John snorted. "I believe I accepted your guardianship, Master. Therefore the moronic decision was mine."

"Then I have never made a moronic decision in my life, so stop questioning me, little one." He swiftly carded his hand through the blond hair as the door opened. The boy punched him in the leg rudely. Sherlock hissed at the boy, his long fingers flicked his padawan's forehead. They shared a soft chuckle as they stepped into the bright sunlight.

Sherlock twisted his head away from the giggling boy towards the exact. Two brooding figures stood slightly off to the right. Sherlock snarled. "The hells are you doing here?"

"Wait to set a good example for the child, Holmes." Anderson growled with annoying knowledge.

"Master Anderson, Master Donavan." John greeted politely and bowed at each name. His master continued snarling. John glanced up at him, he pressed against their bond steadily. _Master, be polite._

Sherlock shook his head angrily. "Well?"

"We are here simply to make sure you arrived safely, you made a small detour on your route back." Donavan said calmly. She eyed John with disappointment. "John, didn't your master teach you tradition? You are supposed to stay on his left, two steps behind him." She glared at Sherlock. His master shrugged.

John frowned at his teacher. He had never told John that was Jedi tradition, the whole time on Tatooine John usually ran ahead of his master. Even now John was standing at his right side and in front of him. The boy scrambled behind him and stood respectfully in his shadow. Sherlock grimaced.

"He doesn't have to stand there, Donavan. It was my decision to not tell him, I want him where I can see him." Sherlock said crossly.

"As I constantly reminded your master you are farther along on your path then he, it is only fair that you walk as such." Donavan rebuked him.

"Yes, but he's such a troublesome rascal I can't keep my eyes on him whilst he is back there." Sherlock said seriously. "I can hardly keep the boy under control, he's so ill behaved."

The child looked horrified as Sherlock swept a grand bow and turned on his heel. "Master!" The boy chased after him. "They're going to believe you! Master! They don't know you're kidding!"

Sherlock tracked down the main hall swiftly before he stopped short and felt the boy collide into his legs. John fell backwards onto his backside, Sherlock knelt next to his fallen padawan with a small smirk. "That is way you stay ahead of me."

"It's not traditional, Master." The boy protested.

"I am not traditional." He placed his hand on the boy's thin shoulder. "And something is very wrong here, I want you to stay where I can watch you."

"You sense something?"

"The council should not take such offense to our detour. At least not enough to send those two idiots." Sherlock growled.

"Yes, Master." John wrinkled his nose. "Why do the three of you get a long so poorly? If I can ask, that is."

"They were close friends with my master, little one."

"Did something happen, Master?" The boy asked unknowingly.

"My master took me in." Sherlock said quietly.

"Was that bad?" The boy inquired at a loss.

"It was…frowned upon." Sherlock did not want to tell the boy anymore, not yet. Most people heard his story and decided he wasn't worth their time. That perhaps he was still dark at heart, and that he would perhaps go back to his original master. He couldn't stand to see John look at him with that fear. When the boy was a man Sherlock could consider telling him, but that was a long way off.

John looked at him curiously, but said nothing. He reached his hand up and gave a gentle tug on his master's sleeve. Sherlock had let the boy feel fear across their bond unintentionally. John pulled until the master came face to face with him, the boy leaned forward and very quietly whispered. "Was it frowned upon because you never used a healer then either?"

At that moment Sherlock knew he was blessed with an undeserved gift.

oOo

"Where are you going, little one?"

The boy stopped in confusion. "To my quarters, Master? I am tired."

Sherlock blinked. "John you are mine now, your youngling quarters have been given away." Sherlock continued walking at a slow pace for his padawan to catch up to. John hustled up to him.

"I can stay with you?"

"Only until you bore me." The master replied rudely.

John snorted. Where most people would have that the older man cruel, John was at complete ease with his Master's abuse. "I shall disobey all your rules in attempt to stay interesting to you my master." His wit was becoming as sharp as Sherlock's. The elder smirked.

"Do you not do that already, John? Perhaps your predictable recklessness is what I grow bored of."

"Then I will work harder to be less predictable to please you, Master." The boy bowed elegantly. The master returned it with a small smile.

"You could never be unpredictable to me, John." Sherlock began punching a code in a door panel. His apprentice smirked and followed him as the door slid open. John gasped at the older man's quarters. John had had a bed, a dresser, and a window. Sherlock had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living space, and four windows. No five windows!

"It used to be, Lestrade's. They let me keep it because he bribed so hard to obtain it." Sherlock shrugged his duffel off his shoulder and pulled his shirt over his head. The tunics were upsetting his lashes. John grimaced. "I am fine, little one."

"I could hear her, Master. You should have let me taken my five…"

"John, I would have sooner taken fifty lashes than let you take your five." Sherlock knelt in front of the boy. "And we will not go through this exercise again."

"Yes, Master." The boy said wearily. He felt himself being picked up and carefully pressed against his master's chest. The little boy yawned. Nightmares were a horror to a young child who desperately needed at least nine hours of sleep a night and had only received four in the past week.

"Tired?" The master whispered. His inner pride demanded he put the child down that instant, but the lack of warmth in his life held tightly to the boy.

"Mhmm." John allowed his master to bundle him in his robe and throw him roughly onto the couch. He pulled his master's robe tightly around himself and yawned loudly. Sherlock went into the cupboard, there was a few small rattling sounds that caused John to peek at Sherlock. He was heating a boiler. "Whatcha doing, Master?"

"Rest." Sherlock order gently.

"You need it more than I do." The boy grumbled. He hadn't napped or slept in weeks, his childish instinct was making him irritable. Sherlock knelt by his side and passed him a mug. He ran a hand through the blond hair.

"Drink. It will help you sleep."

John pouted. "I'm not sleepy." He yawned again.

"Clearly." He tipped the mug under his chin, John swallowed greedily. The liquid was warm and sweet, it coated his throat, and calmed his system. He leaned his back against the couch, visibly starting to relax.

"I don't want more dreams." The boy said sleepily.

"This will help. I used it when I was a boy." He picked the bundle up into his arms bridal style, John twisted until his face was pressed into Sherlock's chest. John was murmuring incoherent things as Sherlock carried him into his new room. The little boy's eyes drooped.

"What was in that drink, Master?" John at last managed to form a sentence. Sherlock laid him on his queen sized bed. John pulled the robe tighter around him.

"Milk, honey, and sleeping herbs." Sherlock readjusted his robe around the boy's tiny form. He pulled the comforter over his robe and tucked the child in. He ran a comforting hand through the padawan's hair as John yawned softly. He put a hand over his padawan's smooth brow and nudged his mind into sleep. John reached up to his master and closed his little hand around the long fingers. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's, to his surprise John whimpered. "Little one?"

"Can you stay with me? Just tonight is all. Not cause I'm scared or anything, cause the Force is with me, but…"

The bell rang loudly, cutting off the child's rant. Sherlock pulled his forehead away from John's. His padawan gripped his arm. "No." The boy whined, the herbs were making it impossible for him to think straight. Sherlock pried himself away from the baby swiftly.

"I'll be right back." He assured John. The boy pulled himself up and forced himself into his master's arms. The herbs were taken away his Force given reason. Sherlock frowned, he had given John the same amount his master used to give him.

Then again Sherlock used to never sleep without aid.

John pulled himself into Sherlock's hold, he nuzzled deep into the older man's chest. "John, you need to sleep in your bed."

"Please." He whimpered.

"In your bed, wait for me." He laid John back down. "Stay here, little one."

He hardened his heart as the boy cried for him. He would not allow anyone else to know he was attached, he would not give them reason to take John away. He slid the door open quietly. Donavan was waiting outside for him.

"What?" He asked coldly.

"Where's John?" She asked crudely.

"Sleeping. Or trying to. What do you really want, Donavan?"

"It is none of your concern, young one." She said wisely.

Sherlock snarled at her. "Then goodnight."

"Have you told him yet?" She inquired. Her voice was as cruel as when he was a boy. His hair bristled.

"It is no concern of yours…"

"He was in my keeping, Sherlock. He was my boy, I will not have you…"

"Not have me what? Turn him dark?" He hissed. "What's going on, _Master_?"

"Nothing you won't soon find out. May I see the boy?"

"MY padawan is asleep. He needs rest, no you may not see MY boy." He allowed the door to slid shut on the master's face. He ran his hand through his hair. He was exhausted, he was ready to sleep for a year. John was crying for him in the other room.

He would not put nearly as much herbs in it the next time if the boy had trouble sleeping.

Sherlock pulled the boy against his chest and allowed him to lay there for the remainder of the night. He could sense calm over the boy's end of the bond, no nightmares plagued him that night. Sherlock kept his arms around the boy through the night.

John would not go dark.

He would not.

Over Sherlock's dead body.


	11. Chapter 11

Mycroft entered without knocking.

The padawan and master were shirtless and kneeling across from each other, carefully pushing an egg between them with the force. John's face was contorted in concentration, Sherlock's was happily amused. The boy appeared like he was cover in a thin, filmy substance. Sherlock was completely clean, aside from his poorly dressed wounds, Mycroft frowned. His brother had a knack for injuries.

"Firm, but gentle, little one. Push too hard and the egg will shatter, don't push at all and you cannot reach your goal." Sherlock was using an old productive lesson his master had taught him. The boy had to push the egg past the master's shoulder, the catch was the master was also pushing on the egg. If the child pushed too hard against his master's returning pressure the egg would…

A sharp cracking sound caused John to recoil as the yolky sludge smacked him in the face. Sherlock chuckled deeply.

"Not funny." The victim huffed.

"One must learn to laugh at himself in order to gain wisdom, my slimy apprentice." The older man chuckled.

"You laugh at me enough for both of us, Master." John wiped his face with his sleeve. The goop dripped into his eyes and mouth, John's mouth twisted in distain. "That is horrible!" The more his mouth moved the more egg was allowed in, Sherlock passed the boy a rag as Mycroft cleared his throat. John's head shot around, he scrambled up and bowed low.

Sherlock bowed in sync with John, but mumbled softly next to him, "Hide the eggs, if Mycroft finds them they'll be devoured."

John turned his face up to the eldest man with a small smile. Sherlock rested his thin hand on John's shoulder. The boy looked at Mycroft expectantly as the master knelt in front of the child who should have been his padawan. He noted how at peace the child seemed to be. He even smiled at the old master. "How are you, youngling?"

The boy's smile wavered, he glanced at his master swiftly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, John scowled, Sherlock smirked, John rolled his eyes, Sherlock snorted, and John finally grinned. The pair seemed to have developed their own language. John gently clicked his boot against Sherlock's. "I'm fine, sir. Is there something I can do for you, Master?"

"I was wondering why you were not in class today, young one." Mycroft said, he carefully avoided Sherlock's annoyed gaze.

"I am not giving him over to teachers who have the incapability of teaching subjects better than I." Sherlock said shortly.

"Are you saying you are better than the teachers in the temple, little brother?"

"I only said I was more capable, Mycroft."

"John needs to go to his classes today. I require your presence with me." Mycroft said solemnly. John threw Sherlock a look. "The council requires you dear brother."

This caught the young knight's interest. "For what?"

"John's trials, of course."

"How thick do you think I am?" Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft worried at his lip. He did not want to discuss this in front of the child, it was not something he wanted John to associate him with after his apprenticeship was transferred. He glared at his impertinent brother. Sherlock had dug his own grave long ago, Master Yoda had made a poor choice giving John to his little brother, a decision Mycroft refused to agree with. Luckily it was about to be corrected.

John pressed himself against Sherlock's leg, he could feel something controlling growing in Mycroft's aura. It was just as revolting as some of the associates Sherlock dealt with on Tatooine. "Very well." Sherlock said boredly. "Give me a moment to get ready."

Mycroft nodded curtly, as he exited Sherlock pulled John in front of him. Their eyes met. "You felt it too." Sherlock said swiftly.

"What's going on?" The boy pleaded. He held onto Sherlock's pant leg desperately. "Master?"

"Focus on the present moment, John." Sherlock cupped his padawan's cheek with his hand. "It will be alright, I promise you. Do you trust me?"

John's lower lip trembled. "You yes…"

"It will be alright." The master said firmly. "Go get dressed for whatever idiotic classes your former clan has planned for you today."

The boy gave him a curious look. "I'll be advanced compared to all them."

"Jedi do not brag, little one."

John grinned. "Says the master show off."

"I show people the correct way to do things and they assume it is showing off." Sherlock snorted indignantly.

"May I show my friends the "correct way"?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you did not laugh at yourself hard enough this morning. Go get dressed."

John stood on his tip toes, and Sherlock leaned down to meet his forehead. "Yes, Master."

The boy came out hurriedly in a fresh tunic and cleansed of all egg. Sherlock was screwing a lid on a metallic thermos, John leaned into his master's leg curiously. The older man passed it down to the small boy with a sly smirk. "Open it after your classes, it should still be warm." He carded his hand tenderly through the baby soft hair.

"Okay, Master." The child exhaled. He allowed himself a few seconds of his master's warmth before pulling away from him with a small giggle. He thanked his teacher for whatever the thermos contained, strapped it next to his light saber, and wandered out of the quarters. Sherlock smiled after his padawan.

Mycroft was waiting for him in the hall, he rested against a large pillar with a superior look spread over his face. Sherlock adjusted his tunics uncomfortably, the fabric constantly reminded him how much of his attachment was focused on John. He sighed, the little boy was worth it.

Idiotic child.

Idiotic adult.

Mycroft sneered at him. "I've been wondering how you acquired such…traumatic injuries."

"My padawan asked to see your fighting style, I am proud to say I showed him accurately." Sherlock announced snidely.

They walked side by side in silence. Mycroft allowed Sherlock to abuse him this once, soon, very soon he would have to be polite to visit John. Sherlock stalked a head of Mycroft into the council room, masters were filing into the grand room and taking their assigned seats. Sherlock stood proudly in the center of the room, he noted some masters looked at him with pity, whilst the majority of them just glared.

Some things would never change.

At last the green troll took his seat in the front of the council men, Sherlock bowed low. "Master, I have successfully found the crystal. I would like to bring it down to the labs for examination with your permission…"

"Informed about this meeting, have you been?" The troll asked gravely. "Not about your work on Tatooine, this is."

"I was informed this meeting is about my padawan's trials. This is not so, Mycroft would not tell me of the real reason."

"Where did your detour take you?" Master Donavan cut in.

Sherlock stiffened, he looked towards Master Windu. "What is this really about, Master?"

The older man stroked his chin, his eyes were focused beyond Sherlock. As a child the look used to frighten him, now it was merely irritating that his question was being ignored. "Padawans have begun going missing, Sherlock. They simply vanish from under their master's noses."

"What has that to do with John?"

Master Kota piped up behind him. "They are the padawans of the Dark Acolytes you begged the council to save twenty-two years ago."

Sherlock's emotionless face betrayed a small frown. "They were not willing Acolytes." He turned back to Yoda. "All of them, Master?" Rica hadn't contacted him, she would have told him immediately if anything happened to Mary.

"No." Master Dooku folded his hands under his nose. "We have called the remaining back to investigate into this matter farther. This is greatly disturbing, Sherlock. Given your past…"

"The Jedi order teaches one to let go off the past, as it is already gone." Sherlock quoted harshly. "My past has nothing to do with my padawan, he isn't even aware of it yet."

"Afraid to tell him, you are." The grand master accused.

"I have only had him little over a month my master. I was simply waiting for the opportune moment."

"Holmes." Master Windu sighed. "We believe that they are turning them over to the Dark Acolytes. There are great numbers of dark one's forming, Jedi are spreading all over the galaxy to stop their uprisings. We believe the temple has been infiltrated with your past accomplices."

"Then you are truly blind." The young knight scowled. The council took a collective intake of breath. "The Dark Acolytes need two things my masters: new padawans and revenge upon those who turned against them twenty-two years ago. What easier way to eliminate two birds with one stone than to conveniently have each of their padawans disappear. From there it is easy to turn them dark with this." He threw the pouched crystal to the grand master carefully. "Do not, under any circumstances, touch that with your skin."

"Know their plans, you do?" The eldest master inquired gently.

"It's hardly difficult to…"

"Sherlock, this council has elected that any padawan under a former Dark Acolyte is to be question and if necessary removed from their custody. Do you understand what this means?" Mycroft said starkly.

Sherlock's entire being froze. Coldness spread through his whole body, making his knees weak and his heart stop. "You are going to take John from me." It was not a question.

"We are questioning him now, you went off course yesterday. That in itself is mildly concerning." Mycroft said gently.

"I took him home, Mycroft." Sherlock was appealed with how sick he sounded. His stomach clenched. "We had an argument, it was my fault. I took him swimming to apologize."

"Like we're going to believe that." Donavan muttered.

Sherlock curled his hand into a fist. "I doubt you'd believe me if I told you the sky was blue, Master." His gaze was cold. "It is ironic Masters, this is strangely similar to what the Acolytes used to do. Give a man something precious and then take it away from him."

"Want him, you did not." Master Yoda's cane came down with a thunderous crash that caused Sherlock to flinch. "Gave him to you to learn from, we did. No progress has been made, I fear." The old master sounded weary. "Rid yourself of him, hard this should not be."

Sherlock wanted to double over, his head was spinning. John was his, they had to see it. Sherlock was not the greatest knight, he understood that. He would likely never reach the rank of master, but John was _his_ padawan. He had never been more certain of anything.

"Master, my padawan has taught me many things." The young knight glared at the old midget. He did not disguise the anger in his voice. "You are mistaken."

"Take care of what you say, Knight Holmes." Windu's voice was cold. Sherlock glared at him.

_For John. You can do this for John._

He didn't want to. Not this, but…

_John._

"Would you like to see what my padawan has taught me my master?" Sherlock addressed to Korunn master heatedly. The older man raised his eyebrows menacingly. Sherlock clenched his jaw.

_I don't want to do this. Not this. My pride or my padawan, I know I cannot have both, but why this? Why now?_

Sherlock wished there weren't so many eyes on him as he knelt at the grand master's feet. His pride in pieces on the floor, his wit stamped into the ground next to it, he ripped out his self-importance and laid it at the old goat's feet. "He has taught me I speak without thinking, that humility is often the answer over self-ego. I beg of you master let me continue learning from him, teaching him. He is my padawan. Surely you felt this when he was given to me. I would sooner die myself than see that boy hurt." He bowed his head. His pride couldn't hurt him anymore if someone jabbed their light saber through it.

Yoda gave a strangled noise that sounded an awful lot like a warm chuckle. Sherlock raised his eyes and saw a sly smile creep across the midget's face. Sherlock blushed fiercely. "Learn much, you have. Good for you, your padawan is."

"But is he good for his padawan, Master?" Donavan demanded.

"See, we soon shall. Soon. Soon."


	12. Chapter 12

John strode away from his class sweaty and famished.

His old caretaker, Master Anderson, had seemed over joyed to see him. He tried to return the delighted smile, but found himself silently agreeing with his master.

Anderson was an idiot.

His hungry was such a distraction he barely noticed his friend Mike was chasing him down. The fellow youngster grabbed his wrist firmly with a loud, "Where have you been? You've been gone for a month, and you come back able to spar with the senior padawans? I thought you had been expelled, John! Why didn't you say anything?"

John frowned at the other boy. "Mikey, I was told I had a master the day I left! I hardly had time to pack, and we aren't supposed to focus on personal attachments…" He paused as he saw hurt pass over his friend's face. "But I did miss you, Mikey. I was going to ask Master Sherlock if I could come visit, I promise." He gave Mike a sloppy hug.

"You have a master?" The other boy blinked as John released him.

"Mmhmm. He is only a knight right now. Knight Sherlock Holmes." John ushered the other boy out of the class room. Hunger was getting the better of him, he had to eat soon. He knew the temple dining hall would be closing shortly. His stomach whined in protest of lack of food.

"I've never heard of him." The older boy huffed. "I think you were exiled and are to chicken to tell me."

"I was not! Master Sherlock is real, he's just not well known." John said defensively. At last he managed to push his heavy set friend out the door…

And into the legs of a tall, tall master.

John had to lean his head all the back to see the towering master's face. Mike gulped loudly, the master was intimidating to say the least. Years of training had perfected the tall master's daunting glare. John tried to look at him through Sherlock's eyes. All he could deduce about the man was: he was tall, older, and in desperate need of a haircut. John felt displeasure welling in his chest.

Sherlock would have been disappointed in him.

The master peered down at him with grey eyes. He was wearing a frown, but had prominent laugh lines around his eyes. The padawan of Sherlock Holmes was unafraid. John pushed Mike forward in a bow and leaned forward himself. Mike was absolutely petrified.

"I am looking for John H. Watson." The master had an accent that John couldn't identify. The boy tilted his head curiously in a very Sherlock way.

"Hello, sir." He stuck out his hand politely, the man was no more intimidating than a tea-less Sherlock. He smiled at the memory of Sherlock going nutters from lack of tea. "I'm John H. Watson. Erm…you can call me John though." The tall master wrapped his large hand around John's tiny one. John craned his neck back to meet the man's eyes.

And he thought Sherlock was tall.

"I am to escort you to your quarters, young one." The tall man said gently.

John's face immediately fell. "Is something wrong with my master, sir?"

"No, no, I need to ask you some questions." The big man knelt in front of the child. "Is that alright?"

"Um…yes, Master." John was surprised a master asked a padawan leaner if "that was alright". He side stepped his best friend and gave a small bow. He grabbed the older man's big hand and gave a small tug. "Follow me, Master. I know it's not traditional, but it seems kinda foolish if you don't know where my master's quarters are. Unless you do know where they are…" He looked up at the tall master curiously. "Do you know?"

The tall man chuckled warmly. "I know where they are, young one. I was friends with the man who once owned them."

"Oh." The child dropped his hand sadly. He took two steps until he was in the shadow of the taller man.

The master stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Do you know, I seem to have forgotten where they are." The master chuckled and held his hand back out to the child. "Would you mind, John?"

"Not at all, Master!" The child gripped his hand pleasantly. John smiled ear to ear at him. "Master, if I could ask your name?"

"My name is Qui Gon Jinn, youngling."

The boy opened his mouth to reply, when his stomach interrupted with a rude growl. John blushed. "Forgive me, Master. I haven't eaten today."

"You sound like my padawan." The elder chuckled. "Is that not a thermos tied to your belt, child?"

John blinked. He had completely forgotten Sherlock's gift. He pulled it off his belt carefully and uncapped it. The smell of makino soup hit his nostrils. He breathed deeply. "Master…" He thanked Sherlock repeatedly in his head as he drank ravenously.

Had his master sensed he would miss lunch?

"Did your master make that for you, John?" Qui Gon asked harmlessly.

"Um…" The boy blushed, knowing Sherlock would not want him telling anyone about his master's good deeds. Qui Gon smiled knowingly, the boy blushed harder.

Qui Gon waved his hand in front of the door, it sprang open. John bowed his head over his soup, he wished his master would come back from his meeting. Qui Gon motioned for John to sit on the meditating mats. John gulped down his soup, threw the thermos in the sink, and knelt on the mats. The old master knelt across from him. He gave the boy an encouraging smile.

"Tell me about your master." The master said kindly.

John frowned slightly. "He is a good man, no matter what anyone else thinks." John's loyalty was immediate and fierce. He glared at Qui Gon threateningly. "He is a good man."

"I'm not here to insult your master, young one." The old man said gently. Light shown over half his face, the other was completely dark. John's mouth dropped slightly, the master seemed to be the force itself. Light and dark, trustworthy and mysterious. John gulped. "I just wish to know more about him. He is very shielded from other Jedi, and I knew his master long ago. I feel like I owe it to him to know his padawan better."

"You knew Master Lestrade?" John's hostile attitude was dropped.

"He was my best friend as a child." The old master said kindly.

"What was he like?"

"You answer my question first, young one." The old man chuckled.

"He is kind, Master. He doesn't want anyone to know about it, I don't know why. He can be cold sometimes, but he always makes up for it… I know it doesn't bother him when others call him a freak or accuse him of being a bad master, but it bothers me. He is my master, he deserves respect." John sniffed.

"What do you know of your master's history, John?" Qui Gon's voice was soft. He placed a gentle hand on his new friend's shoulder.

"Nothing really." The boy said quietly. "He doesn't wish to tell me yet and that's alright. It isn't my place to question him."

"Your master will never talk about his past willingly. He would barely discuss it with Lestrade, but it is something he must face with you."

"Why?" The boy asked uncomfortably. "He doesn't want to tell me, I can't ask him to…"

"Young one, he doesn't want to tell you for fear of losing you." Qui Gon sighed. "When he was young the only person he had was his master. Others misunderstood his situation, they would not speak to him in fear of a ten year old boy. It took me two years to get him to even say hello to me."

John was transfixed with the master's story. "That is cruel!"

"You are right, young one." He said gently. "Your master deserves much more than respect, he deserves an apology. He is scared of losing you and that is an unhealthy attachment. He must face it."

"I cannot ask him to, Master." John said simply. "He will tell me when he is ready, I will not ask him before that. "

Qui Gon stroked his beard deep in thought. "One more question, young one. Do you feel safe with your master?"

John gave him a confused look. "Yes, Master. He is very good with a light saber. He could easily protect me in a fight."

"No, no, young one. That isn't what I meant."

John looked puzzled. "The locks on our house in Tatooine are good, Master. And Master Sherlock gave me this." He held out his light saber for inspection. Qui Gon's eyes widened as he noted whose light saber was in the boy's hand.

"Young one, I meant do you feel safe with your master all the time? Are you ever scared of him?"

"Are you asking if he hits me?" The boy asked with child innocence. Qui Gon shook his head with a small smile.

"John, you are truly a remarkable young man." Qui Gon bent at his mid-section in a small bow. John followed suit. "If you'll excuse me, young one, I have a call to make."

John rose to make tea, under Qui Gon's watchfully eye. The master smiled down at his comm link, he pushed down the button down and spoke softly. "Master, as far as I can tell the boy is healthy, safe, and happy. I asked him if he felt safe with his master, he didn't even understand the question." The master gave a small laugh. "He is a fine boy, he has a small attachment issue, but I will vouch for both of them."

"Thank you, the council does." Yoda's voice came through the comm. "Returning to his quarters, Sherlock will be."

"Master, if I may…will they be kept together?"

"Decided, the council has. Kept together, they will be."

Qui Gon let out a relieved sigh. "Yes, Master. I will watch over the boy until his master returns."

He disconnected the line and was served tea. The boy chattered to him about lessons he had begun learning. Qui Gon listened intently, relishing the innocent conversation. He was asked about his padawan, and he described the fifteen year old Obi Wan proudly. John beamed as he revealed they were born of the same planet.

Qui Gon chuckled warmly as the boy showed he could wiggle his ears.

_Oh my friend, if you could see how well your apprentice is doing with his._

oOo

Sherlock waved his hand over the control panel.

He needed to see his padawan, he needed contact with the boy. It was a foolish emotion. _Sentiment._ He saw the boy kneeling across from the long haired master, he was demonstrating his ear wiggling technics. Sherlock sighed relieved. John was alright, and blissfully arrogant to the whole situation. The child smiled hugely as he saw his master entered.

"Master." The boy bowed to him.

"Little one." Sherlock mirrored him, his heart hammered in his chest.

 _Stop it!_ He shouted inwardly at it. _Useless idiot, you cannot even feel. Go back to pumping blood and stop this nonsense!_

Qui Gon smiled at him from the mats, Sherlock gave a small nod. The elder man excused himself to the washer, Sherlock waited impatiently for the man to exit the room. He motioned for John. "Come here."

He knelt down as John ran to him. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's tenderly, the boy wanted desperately to hug him, but it was a childish feeling that was quickly erased. Sherlock pulled on the boy's ear delicately.

"How was your idiotic…your classes?"

John smirked at him. "I learned new things from them as well, Master. Though you are correct, you are the better teacher."

Sherlock ran his hand through the boy's hair. "You are bias, little one."

John pressed himself closer to his teacher, Sherlock allowed it. It was the closest thing Sherlock could give to a hug. He carded his fingers through the boy's hair. John smiled at him. "Thank you for the soup, Master."

Qui Gon came out of the washer silently. He observed the maser and padawan duo leaning into each, Sherlock was muttering something and making the child laugh. Sherlock smiled at the little boy encouragingly. John pulled out his saber and demonstrated a technic learned in class, Sherlock rolled his eyes. He rebuked the child, the master wacked the boy across the back of his head.

"It could work!" The child defended his new technic, he rubbed the forming lump.

Sherlock snorted. "We will put it to the test later on."

Qui Gon cleared his throat loudly. Sherlock nodded at John, who deactivated his saber. The master motioned to Sherlock, the young knight knelt in front of the boy and whispered to him softly. The child nodded swiftly, bowed, and ran into his room.

"Master Jinn." The knight bowed, Qui Gon was a man that Sherlock respected…grudgingly. The old master smiled and rested his hand on the young knight shoulder.

"Lestrade would…"

"Don't say be proud." Sherlock said shortly.

"Have laughed himself senseless." Qui Gon finished. "You raising a padawan, he never would have believed it."

Sherlock stared at the long haired master for a long time, at last he cracked a small smile. He looked towards John's room. "He would have been outraged at the council's decision to take away padawans from their masters. Someone would have gone home with their boots full of poodoo."

"Sherlock, they are only being thorough." The master said gently. "Let go of this anger, it is over. Your padawan will stay with you, do not stay angry at healed wounds."

"What of the others, Master? They've done nothing wrong, other than…"

"It is being handled. Unfortunately this is your brother and my former master's doing. They do not trust your former peers." The man's hand was steadying. Sherlock glared at him with barely contained anger.

"Can they not see what the Acolytes are planning? My padawan would be able to figure it out faster than those blind fools." Sherlock snarled. He was done being a controlled Jedi, he was in to confines of his own home, his padawan was out of the room. It was the perfect time to lose control. Qui Gon raised his eyebrows.

"Take care of what you say, my young friend. Those blind fools elected to allow you to keep John."

"I was speaking of my brother, Master."

"And my former master?"

Sherlock stuck out his chin in defiance. "Yes, Master. They were some of the few who voted against me raising John."

"Are you angry at his viewpoints, young one, or angry that he went against your wishes? Be mindful of your feelings, Sherlock. You are too attached to the child." Qui Gon said sensibly. Sherlock huffed in annoyance, the older man sounded like his former master. Qui Gon was not a man Sherlock would rebuke easily, unfortunately Qui Gon had often bested Sherlock in his youth which had earned him the young knight's respect.

Barely.

"And you are not attached to Obi Wan?" The knight asked resentfully.

"I am not blinded by it. Obi Wan knows of my past, all of it. Even Xantos. You do not have enough faith in the child."

Sherlock was stunned into silence for the second time in his life. Qui Gon was mildly surprised at the lack of quarrelling from his friend's former padawan. Under normal circumstances Sherlock would out live Yoda trying to have the final word, but John was a sensitive subject with the dark haired knight. The reproached bowed his head somberly. "He is too young to understand."

"He is an intelligent young lad. He has a right to know about his teacher's past." Qui Gon was very gentle with his words.

"And decide if he wants to leave or stay." The knight said dejectedly.

"Yes." Even gentler.

"He is only eight."

"You insult him by assuming his age is a factor in this decision."

Sherlock's hands twitched at his side. He had just secured his padawan staying with him through the council. Why would he risk losing the boy twice in one day?

"Master Jinn…"

The elder raised his hand, silencing the young knight. "Tell him."

"I.."

"Right now, Sherlock. I want your word."

A Jedi's word was binding. A solemn oath that could not be broken. Sherlock hesitated. "With respect, Master, no."

"Oh?" Qui Gon raised his eyebrows.

"I will do so tonight, Master. After he is rested and has meditated, you have my word." He bowed low.

Qui Gon returned the bow just as low. He held Sherlock by his shoulders and squeeze reassuringly. "It will strengthen your bond, my young friend."

"Or destroy it." The knight said quietly.


	13. Chapter 13

He waited until the sun was setting over Coruscant.

John sat with his feet draped over the balcony, he swung them back and forth childishly. His dirty bare feet stretched their toes happily. Sherlock had sent him back to his afternoon classes, John had come back in the late afternoon. He was completely exhausted. The boy was used to having at least an hour nap a day, today he had barely eaten lunch let alone slept.

Sherlock leaned against the doorway observing the boy. His blond hair was blowing in the breeze, he giggled as a leaf blew across his face. The young poster boy for innocence. The child bit into a kashu, a fruit native to Tatooine that had become an instant favorite. He turned to his master. "Master Anderson tried to do a flip with his light saber today, but he forgot to take his robe off." The little boy giggled. "It was an embarrassment for him, but it was hilarious for us."

Sherlock smiled. He should have chided the boy for his amusement, but it was a special occasion. He let the child giggle. The knight slid next to the boy, John leaned into the older man's side and tossed the fruit's core over the edge. The breeze blew Sherlock's dark curls from his face. The suns set over the horizon, sending oranges and purples colliding in the sky. Sherlock pulled the boy's ear affectionately.

"Little one, would you like to hear a story?" He scratched the back of the boy's neck lightly.

"That seems a little odd for you, Master." The boy said truthfully. "You have never told me a story before."

"Then you don't want to hear it?" Sherlock started to raise, the boy snatched the elder's sleeve.

"I didn't say that, Master. I was just pointing out the oddity." He tilted his head sideways. "What is the story about?"

"Me." Sherlock said quietly. "The day I met my master."

"I wouldn't say no to that story." The child said softly. "I've wondered…I would never ask you to tell me though, Master. If you don't want to…"

"I don't." The master said stubbornly. "But you have a right to know what kind of man you are learning from."

John rose slowly, brushing off his pants. He pushed his master's shoulder warmly, the master leaned away from his apprentice with the force of the push. He pulled John into his lap swiftly, causing the child to giggle. They tussled until John was pinned under long limbs. The boy wagged his tongue at his elder.

"Yield, my little one."

"Never! Get off me ya old goat!"

"Young one!" Sherlock added pressure to John's midsection. The boy grimaced as his stomach began to cave inward.

"Master! I yield! Please!" John gasped. His elder rolled off of him with a small chuckle, the boy lay on his back panting. "I already know what kind of man teaches me. A shameful cheater."

"Shameful? I am not shameful!" The master protested loudly.

John crawled onto his master's chest and lay sprawled across it. Sherlock sighed with contentment. He ran his hand through John's soft hair. John returned his sigh. The master picked the small form up and gathered him to his chest.

It was time for bed.

John yawned as he was carried into his room, he wondered if Sherlock would stay with him the whole night. He wasn't scared of the dark or anything, definitely not, but he secretly adored it when Sherlock stayed with him. Sherlock laid John on the large bed and crawled in besides him. The tiny child curled into a ball in his side.

"Are you going to tell me the story, Master?" The boy was hardly able to stay awake. He did not wish to be disrespect his teacher by sleeping through the story.

"I will do better than that, padawan. I will show you." He placed a soft hand over John's forehead. "John, please…please understand…the past is better left in the past, but you have a right to know about mine because of our relationship. However…try to be open minded. For me. Please."

John opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced as sleep washed over his mind. Sherlock sighed as the boy's eyes rolled back into his head. He would not have a pleasant sleep, and Sherlock would not sleep at all.

oOo

"This is outrageous, Qui!"

"My friend if you had obeyed Master Yoda and stayed on the front lines…"

"We never would have discovered the base in time. Don't lecture me about following orders Qui Gon Jinn. A man who follows any form of authority blindly is a fool. The council has a funny of showing its thanks." The silver haired knight walked on his hands in a lazy fashion. The council had reward him with the cleaning up of the prisoners that were brought back.

"That quote only works if you obey any authority, my young friend. And you find the base quite by accident if I remember correctly." Qui Gon lightly kicked the other man in the buttocks, sending him tumbling forward. "You've had obedience problems since we were children, Greg."

"Obedience, not my division." Greg lay on his back indifferently.

"A padawan would fix that. Xanthos has taught me many things…"

"Qui…no. The future Jedi order will flourish much swifter if I am not the one teaching it." Greg rolled on to his stomach and using the Force propelled himself back to his feet. He brushed himself off and took his robe back from his friend. Walking on one's hands proved difficult with a robe billowing around.

"The council has expressed desire for you to have one, soon they will simply thrust one upon you." The continued walking side by side down the prison corridor. Greg scratched the back of his head unconvinced.

"We will not bond." He shrugged.

They stopped in front of the first door, Qui Gon handed him the medical kit. He bowed to his friend mockingly. "May your reward for insolence teach you much patience, my young friend."

Greg bowed in return. "And may your padawan teach you many things, such as grooming, my long haired companion."

The elder knight walked away with a small smirk on his face. The younger ran his hand through his silver hair in exhaustion. "Let's get this over with." He shoulder the first door open.

They had attacked a Dark base, a base that was supposed to hold a Sith lord, but in reality held children. Dark Acolytes in training, nothing more. But they were closer to discovering the alleged Sith Lord's whereabouts. There was even a rumor they had captured the Sith's padawan learner.

The first prisoner tried to stab his eye out with a plastic fork. Greg stumbled out angrily, he'd have to petition prisoners be served finger foods from then on. The fourteen year old had wild red eyes and was practically foaming at the mouth. The second child was a sixteen year old girl, also with red eyes. She ranted and raved as he tried to clean her up. She kept informing him that the dark would rise again. Greg pinned her already shackled hands under his knee and dabbed at a long cut on her arm with bacta ointment before getting the Force out of there.

The next three teens also had red eyes, all raved about the dark rising again. Greg barely made it out of the cells with all his limbs in tack. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why the teens' eyes were red. He needed to contact Tahl, she would need to examine them all. He limped along to the final cell, the Force was blocked off from the inside of the chamber. Greg rubbed his bruising leg. This must be the Sith's apprentice.

Greg nodded at the guard as he sat down for a brief breather. Anderson had been put on duty, Donavan's nearly unbearable padawan. The young learner opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a wave of the hand. The knight was in no mood for any griping.

"You're not allowed to go in there." The learner said after a short while. Greg held up his medical bag in response. The learner still shook his head violently. "No, Master. He's dangerous. This is the Sith's padawan."

"Is he not shackled?" The knight asked wearily. "Is he not cut off from the Force? Do you think I can't handle myself against an unarmed teenager, young one?"

"Master, my orders come from…"

"Boring. Move." He waved the young learner aside. The teen did not move. "Anderson move." He snarled.

At last the boy moved away, Greg entered the cell. He braced for the immediate rant that often followed his entrance, but none came. He glanced around for the red eyed teen, but saw only a small boy bundled in the corner of the cell. He wasn't wearing a shirt, which revealed a malnourished body and scars that ran all over his back. His wrists were shackled to a connecting chain that was also attached to his thin ankles. There was a mat of dark hair that stuck out from between his knees, the faint sound of reed pipes could be heard. Greg felt sick.

He set the medical kit down loudly, alerting the small figure to his presence. He sat down slowly. The beautiful reed pipe sound ceased and a low snarl came out of the small bundle. "If you come any closer…I will bite you. I mean it. You're already limping, I can take you."

Greg nearly laughed. "Shut up, kid. I'm not here to hurt you." He scooted closer to the boy. "How did you know I was limping?"

"I could hear you come in, hundark. Plus you were really quick to sit down." The tiny boy raised his head. Greg wavered as he saw bright ice blue eyes instead of red. His heart skipped several beats as he noted the tear trails that ran down his cheeks and a large fresh gash across his forehead.

"Hundark? Ouch. How old are you, kid? You seem younger than the others." Greg kept his voice neutral, the kid would most likely lose interest if he was overly kind. He began pulling out medical supplies, the child was holding his wrist at an odd angle.

"None of your damn…"

"Oh for the love of Force, shut up if you don't want to talk. You have the right to be silent you know?" Greg saw the boy's face drop.

_Wait to live up to the term hundark, Greggy._

"What kind of interrogator tells their victim to shut up? No wonder you haven't made the rank of master yet, silver haired hundark." The child was clever.

"I was born with silver hair, despicable one." Greg chuckled. "I am only thirty-one." He showed the boy the bandages. "If I unlock your wrists will you hit me in the nose?"

"Probably."

"At least you are honest." Greg knelt in front of the child slowly, allowing him to keep tabs on the older man's hands at all times. He clicked the key and released the boy from his binds, he scooted back to his bag. "Thank you for not knocking my head off." He said kindly.

The boy scowled and held his left wrist, Greg noticed the child quickly tucking the reed pipes at his side. "You are not interesting enough to hit."

"Oh no?" The knight huffed indignantly. "I bet you twenty Republic credits I can get you to let me clean your head wound with this thumb." Greg held up his right thumb temptingly. "I love me a good gamble. What do you say, kid?"

The boy tilted his head curiously. "That's illogical."

Greg scooted forward, medical bag in hand. "Then you've got nothing to lose." The boy gave him a skeptical look that Greg interpreted as fear. The kid didn't look older than nine. "First tell me how old you are. I already told you my age, fair trade and all."

The boy scowled. "I'm ten."

"Ten? Force that's old. Pretty soon you'll have hair like mine." He shook his short hair. The child seemed dangerously close to smiling. Greg's heart softened. "Think you could just let me clean that instead of making me force you?" He pointed at the head wound cautiously.

"You just don't want to lose the bet." The boy said shortly.

The silver haired man frowned. "Alright, I'll prove it first." He sighed. He pressed his thumb under the child's jawline with slight pressure until the boy was pinned against the wall. "Try to move."

The boy wiggled uncomfortably, but couldn't twist out of his grasp without pain shooting down his neck. To the child's own great horror he whimpered. Greg released him immediately. "Kid?"

"You've proven your point." The child said coldly.

Greg gaped at the hurt child. How could a little boy sound like he had years of hatred behind him? He dabbed at the child's forehead silently, how could he get that almost smile back? The little boy squirmed as the medicine was applied gently. "Would you like to try it?"

The child gave him a stunned look.

"The move I mean. Want to give it a shot, Curly?" He stopped applying medicine and looked into the child's confused blue eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he nodded. "Come 'ere. Hold out your legs, that's it." Greg freed the boy's legs and sat back on his hunches. "Alright ready?"

The kid held out his right thumb unsurely. Greg very gently took the boy's thumb and guided it under his jawline. "Alright light pressure, if you put on too much I'll just turn my head and get away." The boy obeyed him until Greg's cheek was pressed deep into the wall. He grinned down at the boy. "See."

He expected the child to keep him pinned there for a while longer and was happily surprised when he was released. He smiled at the boy encouragingly. The boy looked down at his feet and set his jaw, he held his left wrist firmly in his right hand. It clearly pained him. "Um…could you …" He held out his wrist towards the other man.

"Course." The knight shuffled towards the child and knelt before him. He held out his large hand, the child hesitantly put his thin arm in the elder's palm. Greg marveled at the child's slight form, too short, too thin. The Jedi pulled his robe from around his shoulders and laid it on the child's small form. The boy faltered.

"You're kind?" The boy wrapped the robe tighter around him with his good arm.

"I try." Greg wrapped the kid's arm in strong bandages. "I try to teach compassion as well as feel it."

"Even for Siths." The boy whimpered.

"Curly…you don't seem dark to me. Any man who has chosen dark, can choose light again if he is not fully dark."

"I am though. I am dark. The Sith's only padawan."

"Young one, in here the force does not exist. Dark and light are not present here. There is a man and a child. And the elder always protects the younger." He finished with the boy's arm. "When you walk out of this cell you can choose to accept dark once more, or you can come into the light." He pulled out a small packet of water from the medical pack. "Drink."

The boy obeyed him silently. He guzzled the packet in seconds, he passed the empty sack back. "Can I have more?"

He passed the boy another packet. "Slower this time, kid. Are those your pipes?"

The boy sat across from the master and nodded slowly. "Yes…I don't think you were supposed to give me water…" The boy confessed softly. "I think they wanted to keep me weak so I couldn't escape."

"Why do you say that?" The elder asked in surprise.

"I've been here two days, and they haven't given me anything since I got here." He mumbled. For the first time Greg noticed how dry the boy's lips were. His stomach clenched. How could the order have done this to a little boy?

"It's not the order." The boy read his expression. "It was the guards." He held his wrist in pain and flinched.

"Young one…who broke your arm?" The elder asked gently.

"It happened on the battle…"

"Don't lie, kid. Jedi don't lie."

"The lady guard." He said at last. "She called me a son of a Sith whore." The kid at last sounded his true age as he sniffled fiercely. Greg wiped away the child's tears with a rag. Rage was spreading through his heart. He passed the child another water packet. The boy sniffed slightly. "My name is Sherlock by the way."

"Sherlock." Greg pondered. "That's interesting."

"My master wanted me to change it, but…" He looked at the Jedi imploringly.

"Your master is a fool for wanting to change a unique name." The elder scowled. He looked at the cell's door angrily. "Sherlock, tell me truthfully son, did you want to be the Sith's padawan?"

"Why?" The boy demanded.

"Tell me." The response was firm.

"No." The child said coldly. "I didn't want those crystals to touch me, so I lied and told him I was dark already. He made me prove it…but I couldn't…I couldn't…you saw the others, how they reacted."

"How did you prove it, curly one?"

The boy shook his head viciously. "No."

"No, what?"

"Don't ask, 'cause I won't answer." The child snarled. "I couldn't…the crystal makes you think things, Master. Terrible things, it takes away my mind, and I can't think straight. All I could think about was hatred and evil…He made me hold it because I wouldn't hurt the others…"

"Sherlock, Sherlock." The master laid calming hands on Sherlock's thin shoulders. He didn't dare meditate on the way the boy called him "master". "Breathe deeply, okay?"

The child took deep, shaky breaths in.

"You need to relax. I am proud of you for telling me the truth, Curly. I needed to hear that you were not dark before I could help you."

"Weren't you listening?!" The child shrieked. "I told you I was dark, idiot!"

Greg pulled Sherlock against his chest gently. The boy was entirely taken off guard as Greg wrapped him in the robe. "Stay completely still, understand? I will get your pipes."

"Yes." The child murmured. "This is against your rules, is it not?"

"Dull." The Jedi smiled at the child. He lifted the child bridal style, Sherlock laid limp in the tall man's arms. The young knight bent over the child's corner and was disgusted as the smell of feces and urine hit his nose. He passed Sherlock his reed pipes and gave him a warm smile before moving fluidly to the exit.

Greg pounded on the door wildly. "The kid's sick! I need to take him to medical bay! Help! He's barely breathing!"

"I thought Jedi didn't lie?" The breathy response came from the bundle.

"You are sick are you not? And if you hold your breath a little I wouldn't be lying." Greg winked. The door opened a fraction of an inch. "Let me out, moron! Unless you want the boy to die before he's been properly questioned!" Greg slammed his shoulder into the door, sending the poor learner flying. He looked at the fallen form as Anderson struck the wall. "Whoops. Guess the Force is back on."

His bundle giggled, the knight squeezed him carefully. The boy smothered his laughter in the older man's chest, Greg's heart softened even farther. How could anything that young and helpless be dark?

He carried the bundle swiftly to his quarters, carefully avoiding fellow Jedi. He wasn't planning on helping the lad escape, but he knew better than to allow himself be caught comforting the Sith's padawan. Even if he was an unwilling padawan and only ten. Greg tightened his hold on the little boy.

Qui Gon was never going let him hear the end of this one.

He waved his hand over the door panel, Sherlock wiggled as the door slammed shut behind them. Greg put him down gently, the boy favored his arm and glanced around the quarters swiftly. His clicked his bare feet together. "Nice." He mumbled.

"Yeah."

"Clean. Not here often?"

"Hardly ever here." The master confirmed.

Sherlock blinked up at the knight. Greg knelt in front of Sherlock, the boy dropped his gaze. The elder gently held the boy's chin and made him looking into his brown eyes. The boy whimpered. "What's going to happen to me now?"

"You're going to stay with me, do you accept that?"

"You mean do I accept the light, don't you?" The boy tried to look away, but Greg held his chin firmly.

"Yes, Sherlock."

The child sniveled. "You don't want me, don't be foolish. I am a Sith…"

"Not if you don't want to be, kid." Greg said gently and released the tiny boy's chin. He rose to make the boy tea. Sherlock had been a self-reliant child since he was four, he had never needed anyone, never wanted anyone. He wanted the knight. He threw himself at the Jedi's strong leg and sobbed.

"I don't wanna be dark anymore. I hate it, I hate it, sir. Please, can I stay with you?"

"Course you can, kid." He rubbed the back of the little boy's neck soothingly. His hand made light circles under his hairline and around his ear. He gave a small tug on the little boy's ear. Sherlock sobbed until Greg picked him and set him on kitchen counter, he noted painful sores on the boy's feet. He slowly handed him a tea bowl and made him sip it. The warm liquid calmed the boy.

"I-I never caught your name."

"Gregory Lestrade." The silver haired knight held out his hand for the ten year old to shake. Sherlock accepted it. Greg knelt slowly and turned over the child's feet. The sores were red and irritated, pus leaked down his heel. Greg began rubbing ointment over it. The boy's eyes widened at the sight of a Jedi humbling himself before a child.

"Will you be my teacher, Gregory Lestrade?" The boy asked almost hopefully.

"I'd like to be, curly one." The knight smiled. He motioned for the boy to continue sipping his tea. Sherlock obeyed him as his feet were bound in bandages.

"My master would not allow it. He'll come looking for me. He will." The boy started to cry again.

Greg let him.

Sherlock didn't seem like he had cried enough in his life time.

"I will not let him take you, kid. Not if you want to stay with me." The knight said firmly. He pulled the child into his arms, he rubbed the little boy's back comfortingly. Sherlock seemed to wither into his chest. "You could be my padawan. If you haven't bonded with the Sith."

"I haven't." The boy cried. "He wasn't my teacher, he owned me. That's what the term "master" meant to him."

"I'd like to be your teacher, Sherlock." He could hear Qui Gon's endless rave towards him about his new padawan.

_I tell you to take on a learner and you come back with a Sith? My friend you are truly bold._

Sherlock curled into the knight's arms and drew his knees to his chest. Greg pulled the boy onto the couch and laid him down on his chest, covering them with his robe. He produced a small napear and handed to Sherlock gingerly. The dark haired child would never allow himself to be fed. The boy nibbled on the corner of the fruit.

"Good?"

"Mmhmm."

He waited until the boy had finished, or at least until he started pocketing the left over pieces. Greg gave him a small shake. "Sherlock?"

"For later." The boy defended. His fingers began stuffing the pieces in his undergarments because he had no pockets, they slid in easily next to his reed pipes. "Where I come from you're lucky if you get feed more than once a week. It's instinct to scrounge."

"Little one, you don't need to scrounge anymore." He held out his hand for the extra pieces of fruit, Sherlock grudgingly gave it to him.

Greg rocked the boy for a short while, until Sherlock was snoring peacefully in his chest. He seemed so small, so frail. Sherlock looked slight enough for the wind to blow him away if it was strong enough. He was no Sith.

There was a firm knock on his quarter's door.

_Balls._

Sherlock slept on.

"Open!" He called as softly as he could while still being heard.

An angry Master Dooku, Donavan, and Master Yoda appeared in his doorway. Yoda didn't look nearly as peeved as the others, but Donavan looked ready to feed him to a rancor. He motioned to the sleeping boy. "Do be quiet Sally. It took me forever to get him to sleep." He rocked Sherlock gently.

"Do you know what you've done?" She hissed.

"Yeah. I think I've took a frightened little boy and have feed him after days of being starved. Oh, he said he had his wrist broken by a "lady guard". You wouldn't happen to know who that was? Sally?"

"He is the Sith's apprentice. His special ability is his gift to make people do as he wishes with his voice." His friend was beside herself. "It took us ten hours to get that little Sith into his cell. He talked half of our guards into releasing him."

Greg thought back, the boy hardly said boo time him since they had arrived. Mostly the poor kid had cried, Sherlock shifted in restlessly his sleep. "Leave him be, Sally. Did you ask him his age before you stuck him in that cell? Or did you just crack him over the head and stuff him there?"

"Second one. And I'll do it again." She took a step towards his boy.

"I. Will. Maim. You." The young knight snarled.

Master Dooku's hand strayed to his saber hilt, Greg whipped his saber off his belt and flung it at the clan of masters. It rolled at Yoda's feet. Greg gathered the boy to his chest and glared at his superiors. "He is only a little boy, Master. There is no darkness in his heart, you must feel it."

Sherlock choose that moment to whimper in his sleep. Greg pulled his robe tighter around the slender figure, none of the masters softened their faces.

"Gregory." The silver haired man said unsympathetically.

"He is only a child."

"No 'm not." Came the sleepy reply. "Not a child."

"Hey kiddo." Greg murmured softly.

Sherlock rubbed his eyes as he took in the three new adults. He immediately bristled as recognized Donavan, he shrank back against Greg's chest. Master Yoda remained silently, but stared as if entranced by the child. Sherlock slid off Greg's chest unwillingly and held his chin up in defiance. "I didn't do anything."

"You are the padawan of a Sith lord." Donavon nearly shrieked.

"No I'm not! I am not his learner!" Sherlock stamped his foot in defiance. "He wanted me 'cause of my gifts. He didn't teach me anything! He just used me a lot…" Sherlock trembled at the memory. "I don't want to talk about it." He said at last.

"Not his learner, you are? Whose then? Hmmm?" The little green thing clearly frightened the boy. He glanced back to Greg.

"Mine." Greg rested his hand on his padawan's thin shoulders. "The boy is my learner."

Sherlock stood a little straighter, his back was pressed deep in the young knight's leg. The knight sent the soothing waves of the Force deep into the boy's mind. They weren't bonded, but Sherlock accepted his warmth gratefully. He seemed to relax slightly under the knight's gentle grasp. Sally snarled at the ten year old. "He obviously has you under his influence."

"That isn't true!" Sherlock shouted hoarsely. He grabbed Lestrade's fingers in his desperate need for the knight to believe him.

Greg opened his mouth to defend the boy, but was swiftly cut off by a firm rapping against his buttocks. Master Yoda had crept behind him as his fellow master argued, the knight had barely noticed him. Even Sherlock looked surprised to be so close to the Grand Master. Lestrade reached down to take the mortified boy's hand. He was rewarded with a low, forbidding, hissing noise. He withdrew his hand.

"Master, if he had influence over me why would he stay here? The only thing he has asked me to do is fix his wrist." Greg pleaded.

The grand master cocked his head to the side, Sherlock mimicked him unconsciously. The green troll made a small noise in the back of his throat, the ten year old took a tentative step towards the object of his attention. Greg scrutinized the child and grand master. Yoda made a small motion with his hand that caused the child to follow him absent mindedly. The grand master led him into the next room.

"Like Knight Lestrade, you do." The grand master said the moment the door closed.

The accused bowed his head. "He is kind, sir."

"Trust him, you do. Hmmm?"

The little boy held up his bandaged wrist as if it everything was explained. The green midget indicated the boy should sit. Sherlock sat down unwillingly on Greg's bed. "Trust him because he is kind, you should not. About him, you know nothing." The midget pointed the end of his staff at Sherlock's nose.

The boy pondered. "I know he didn't want a padawan, but he asked me to be his even still. I know he cares more about people who need him than where those people come from. I know he wanted to be a healer, but his master made him stay in the field. I know he breaks rules lots of times, and it makes people think he's untrustworthy. I know he gets really mad when people hurt children no matter which side of the Force they are…I know his light saber is green."

The elder raised his eyebrows.

"Burns around the saber hilt." The boy said as if it were obvious. "He said he wanted me to be his padawan." The child said stubbornly.

"To old, you are." The midget accused. "Seduced by the dark side, you have been."

"No, sir. I was…" Sherlock hesitated. "I was afraid of him, sir." The boy very slowly pulled Lestrade's robe from his shoulders and turned his back. Yoda took in all the boy's scars.

"Angry at him, are you? Hmmm? Hate him? Hmmm?" The green midget poked the boy in his ribs. Sherlock cringed as the staff hit his cracked ribs.

"I am angry…I don't hate him…kind of…"

"Too dark, you are."

"I…Mr. Lestrade said…"

"Too close already, he is. Give up much for you, he will."

"You mean he'll get in trouble?" The boy growled.

"Likely." The old master giggled. "Protective, he is."

"I don't want him to get in trouble." The boy said heatedly.

"Inevitable. Throw away his future, Lestrade will." The master punctuated each word with the widening of his dark green eyes. Sherlock clicked his bandaged feet together uncomfortably, he could hardly hold back his tears. Lestrade was a kind man, he couldn't let the kind knight throw away his future for a Sith. Sherlock sniffled.

"I don't want him to. I'll go back to prison." The child rubbed tears out of his eyes with his least injured arm. "Please don't hurt Master Lestrade. He's a good man, sir."

"Hmmm." The elder seemed to ponder the child. Sherlock held out his wrists to be chained together, the master put the binders around his thin arms carefully. They walked out side by side, Sherlock avoided the other masters' eyes. He heard Greg's outward gasp as he noticed the binders.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock cringed at the pain that laced through Greg's voice. He tore his gaze from the floor and looked into Greg's hurt brown eyes. "Don't be stupid." The boy muttered through clenched teeth. "You knew it wouldn't work. I'm a Sith, remember? You're a Jedi. Even if I wanted to I couldn't change to the light." Sherlock was crying miserably.

Greg knelt in front of the little boy. "Sherlock, look at me. You can change to the light, you are not dark. You are no Sith, there isn't dark in your heart. You were lonely, not dark." Greg caught the child's chin. "I could feel it, you were lonely."

Sherlock took Greg's hand between his bound hands and removed it. He held it for a second longer than he should have. "My I keep your robe, Master? Please?" The boy pleaded. The knight nodded painfully, Sherlock leaned forward sluggishly. He extended out his tiny hands with a precious parcel in the middle of the two insignificant palms.

His reed pipes.

Greg accepted them gingerly.

At last the boy followed the clan of masters out, a terrified child between three calm masters. Greg doubled over in pain.

oOo

Sherlock stood erect before the Jedi council.

He trained his eyes on Master Yoda, he couldn't look at anyone else without feeling the dreadful sense of fear. They allowed some knights to be present, Greg included. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to look for him. He tightened the knight's robe around his shoulders with his hands still in binders.

"Sherlock Holmes." The white haired man who had arrested him said. "You are accused of being the padawan of the Sith Moriarty. You are also accused of using your talents to corrupt Jedi guards. How do you plead?"

The child took a deep breath. "I wasn't his padawan. He just wanted to use me for my curse, he never taught me anything. And of course I used my curse to get your guards off me! The one broke my wrist. I was convinced the idiots would kill me."

"Silence." The white haired master commanded.

"You can't ask me a question, then order me to be silent." Sherlock huffed.

Yoda stamped his cane on the ground, Sherlock fell mute. "A decision, we have already made. Exiled, you cannot be. Find you, the Sith will."

Sherlock took deep breathe in.

He was going to die.

The ten year old straightened. "I understand, sir."

"Know what this means, do you?"

"I am to be executed." The boy said to the space above the grand master's head.

"But safe your friend Lestrade, will be." The master said gently.

Sherlock heard Greg swallow hard, a man with long brown hair was pinning him to a wall. Greg was fighting against him fiercely, the larger man has his broad hand over the knight's mouth. "Just get it over with." The boy knelt before the master. He bowed his head, waiting for the light saber to activate. The midget merely chuckled.

"The council has decided. Have a master of the light, you will." He said decidedly.

Sherlock's dark head rose twice as swiftly as it had lowered. He looked into the grand master's green eyes. "I thought I was too old to become a Jedi?"

"Wish to argue, do you? Hmmm?" The green midget chuckled.

"No, sir." The child mumbled.

"Are we done confusing the poor boy, Master? Are you satisfied he isn't dark?" Greg hissed from under the long haired man. "May I take my padawan now?"

Sherlock looked ready to faint from the overwhelming fact that he would not be killed. He felt a pang of relief, and he rose from his knees. He bowed his head so none of the master could see tears progressing down his cheeks and soaking his master's robe. He took deep, hiccupping breaths. "Is this true, sir?"

"Doubt me, do you?" The grandmaster asked warningly.

The boy shook his head violently, his voice did not waver as he spoke. "I have been raised in a manner in which trusting is not the norm. I…forgive me. I-I trust and thank you, Master." The child bowed low. "I don't deserve it."

"At least he knows it." Donavon mumbled.

Sherlock weakened at the cruelty that was thrown at his already scarred body. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. A warm palm pushed aside the comforting robe and covered his shoulder. Sherlock turned to see a grey haired knight glaring in Donavon's direction. He rubbed his chin against the master's callused hand, Greg trained his attention back to his padawan. "You are mine now, Curly. And you owe me laps for going back to your cell and not informing me of your choices."

The child nodded, tears flowing faster. "Yes, Master."

"Discuss with you the plans of your former master, later I will." Yoda informed the sobbing boy.

"Yes." Was all the child could say. The masters were dismissed swiftly with a bored wave. Some nodded in Greg's direction, others glared, and Sally of course hissed violently. Sherlock waited until all of them had exited and the long haired knight shared words with Greg before pitching himself into the young knight's arms. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shhh. You were forgiven the minute the deed was over." Greg gently tugged on the small boy's hair. His padawan's hair.

Force that felt weird to think.

"Master, there are others. Other children I mean, younger than me. The proper training age for Jedi. If I give The Order their location can they save them too? My friend Rica, she's only eight." The new padawan babbled.

"I will petition for it immediately, Curly." He ran his fingers around the little boy's ear and rubbed it between his thumb and index finger. Sherlock nuzzled the hand affectionately.

"Master, why am I allowed to be a Jedi? Aren't I too old?" Sherlock hiccupped.

"Sherlock you have already been trained in the art of the Force, now with proper guidance you will make a great Jedi." Greg knelt in front of Sherlock slowly and caught his chin. "And I am honored that you find me interesting enough to be your master."

Sherlock nodded. "Barely."

"Brat."

"Yes, Master."

oOo

John nearly hurled himself from the bed.

A cold sweat plastered his fair hair to his forehead, his breathing caught in his throat. Sherlock was no longer in his room, but the boy could sense his master on the meditation mats. John pulled off his soiled tunic and flung it across the room in rage. He could barely stand as his body trembled aggressively.

John stood on wobble knees and stumbled across the room. He managed to punch the code in and open his door. Sherlock didn't raise his head, he could feel his padawan's fury across the bond. He took a deep shaken breath in.

And prepared to be abandoned.

"Master?" John said unsteadily.

"John?" Sherlock's voice was barely audible.

John broke into a dead sprint and pitched himself into his master's arms. He was at the tender age where even in the face of others misfortune, he needed to be comforted. He buried his face in Sherlock's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you had to endure that amount of unkindness, Master."

Sherlock faltered at the boy's words. "That wasn't…John the point was…was to show you I was a Sith."

"No, Master. You were not a Sith. I heard what you said to Donavon, you weren't his learner." John sobbed.

"John…" Sherlock gathered the child to his chest and pulled him onto a chair. He rocked the boy slowly, John wept into his chest. "Do not be angry, John. I didn't show you my past to anger you, I showed you to make you understand," Sherlock put his chin on the top of John's head and nuzzled him, "you are learning from a former Sith…"

John nestled into his chest. "You weren't dark, Master. Master Lestrade said…"

"Shhh." The master said softly. "Shhh."

"Where are they reed pipes, Master?" The boy murmured. "I have never seen them before."

"I haven't played them in three years, little one."

"Why, Master?"

Sherlock wavered. "I can only play sad melodies, John. It's been that way since I was a boy, I was informed I needed to retire my music."

John whimpered.

"John, it wasn't shown to you to make upset…"

Another whimper.

"I am not lonely anymore, little one." Sherlock muttered.

"Promise?"

"Yes, my little one."


	14. Chapter 14

John was starting to enjoy Mycroft's company.

Sherlock was thoroughly disgusted.

The elder master had begun teaching one of John's classes shortly after they arrived. Sherlock still hadn't been permitted to leave for Tatooine, but his contacts were keeping him well up to date and his research on the blood crystal kept him somewhat occupied. He peered at through one of the temple's forcescopes. Dark energy rolled off the blasted thing like steam off of boiling water. John was saying something.

"Master? Master?"

Sherlock tore his gaze from the scope. "How long have you been here?"

"About half a standard hour." The boy said resentfully.

"Oh." The master said baffled. He hadn't even sensed the boy.

John was pulling a stool over to sit next to his master. He chewed at his bottom lip nervously, Sherlock frowned heavily. "What, little one?"

"Master Mycroft thinks I'm ready to spar two on one." John said rapidly. "He says that is advanced for an eight year old, but I was wondering what you thought?"

"Why would I have a problem with it?" Sherlock demanded. "Clearly you are ready for it, unless you are looking for praise it shouldn't have been brought to my attention."

Currently it had been "Master Mycroft says, Master Mycroft said". Sherlock could feel unwelcomed jealousy welling in his chest. Mycroft had been in the most inconvenient places since the council elected to keep John with Sherlock. The knight was no fool, Mycroft was supposed to take John on as his learner.

Ha.

The child's shoulders slumped in submission. He rested his arms listlessly on the table and placed his chin in his hands. "I wasn't looking for your praise…. But Master Mycroft says it's something to be proud of."

"Then go be his padawan." Sherlock snapped from his scope. John gaped at him in terror, Sherlock glared at the crystal. His expression was violent.

"Out of the lab." He growled.

He shepherded the boy out of the lab. John looked back at the abandoned crystal, he glowered at the blood red glow. He wanted to kick Sherlock in the shins, demand an apology, hiss, and spit.

Sherlock slammed the door to the lab, and John immediately calmed. The tension had been so thick his light saber wouldn't be able to cut it. Sherlock took slow deep breaths, he placed a stern hand on his padawan's back. The master guided air into the boy's lungs, forcing him to breathe deeply. John exhaled through his nose.

"Little one, breathe deeper." His tone was already softer than it had been. Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. John blinked rapidly.

"I was irritated, Master." John confessed instantly.

"Did my attitude suggest I was any different? It was the crystal, John. It is laced with dark energy." Sherlock leaned against the wall in pure exhaustion. He remembered the feeling of the horrid crystal as a boy. It wore him down to the core, John leaned into his side, his master's half of the bond was seeping with fatigue.

Sherlock scratched the back of the child's neck slowly. It was his way of apologizing for the Mycroft insult, and it was easily accepted as John turned his head. He guided the elder to his favorite spots gratefully.

Sherlock winced, his back pained him as he pulled himself away from the wall. John watched his master straighten himself sorely, his back was bleeding through his bandages and tunics.

"Master!"

"I'm fine. I've shut off the pain, it…"

"Master, please! I can sense the infection, you said pride is not a tolerable trait in a Jedi."

Sherlock snorted. "My little healer."

John had recently announced his ambition to become a Jedi field healer. Sherlock pressed his head against the smooth wall, John was not wrong about the infection. "I'm fine."

John opened his mouth, but was stopped by a raised eyebrow and a pained look. There was no way to make Sherlock see reason, his master was a stubborn man when it came to pain. John noted in some cases Sherlock's ability to prolong pain was a blessing, it allowed his master to grab low set light sabers by the blade.

But as blood seeped through his tunic the master looked ready to drop from exhaustion.

"Master, please let me take you to the healers." The boy begged. "I could throw the biggest tantrum until you do."

Sherlock carded his hand through the fuming padawan's hair. The young padawan growled audibly, his temper began to grow fervently. Sherlock gripped the child's hair at its base and jerked. "Yield my little one."

"I will yield when your stubbornness ceases my master. You need a healer." The child tugged unconsciously at his own sleeves, John's nervous tick. He wished there was a way to transfer his healing capabilities to his master. John received an extra strong tug from Sherlock. "Master Mycroft would go to the healers."

"Then that settles it, little one. The healers are only for idiots and power hungry morons, I shan't go."

The child grumbled in exasperation, his master was walking towards the lift without him. John sprinted to catch up with the young knight's stronger stride. The curly haired Jedi braced himself against his strong arms, the child pulled a water packet from his belt. He handed it to the older Jedi tenderly. Sherlock ripped it open with his teeth as lift pressurized and shot into the air. Sherlock drank it down.

"Master…"

"Padawan, enough."

"You are sick. There is no shame in that!"

"Could be worse." The master defended quietly. He leaned against the lift's interior and closed his eyes.

"You have an infection." The little boy sounded dangerously like his idol. He spoke with a tone that declared Sherlock an idiot, unworthy of the term Jedi. "You said healers are for idiots. Ignoring an infection is idiocy, Master."

The lift released them onto the main floor, Sherlock glared at the bold boy. "Are you calling your master senseless, loathsome child?"

"Yes, Master." The child lifted his chin defiantly.

"What gives you such boldness, brat?" The master was rushing to the quarters.

"Jedi do not lie, Master."

The young knight snorted, John caught his sleeve and pulled on it. Sherlock could sense a plan brewing in John's overactive head, he barely managed to yank his arm away when out of the corner of his eye he saw familiar long hair and friendly grey eyes. The child raised his voice to a loud roar. "Master Qui Gon!"

Sherlock took off in a dead sprint that was interrupted by a long arm extending in front of him. Grey eyes looked down on him with amusement, Sherlock grimaced as another wave of pain shot through his back. John reattached himself to his master's sleeve.

"John, let it die." He hissed.

"Never."

"Laps."

"Worth it."

"No sparring for a week."

"You'd get bored."

"Fifty republic credits."

"Jedi don't take bribes."

John pulled on Qui Gon's cape until the tall man leaned over to hear the child better. John swiftly explained Sherlock injuries, all though the events that led up to the injuries were excluded. Qui Gon raised his eyebrows as the child finished.

"Well that won't do." The tall master smiled. He cupped the child's cheek in his broad hand. "Why don't I help you escort your master to the healers?" He leaned forward with a wink. "I have binders on my belt if he gives us too much trouble."

It turned out Sherlock didn't need the binders.

The tall master's presence was enough.

Sherlock refused to look John in the eye. The child squirmed uncomfortably as they entered the medical bay. "It's not like I've led you to a Sith."

"I wish you had." The young knight grumbled.

The healer's doors opened wide, revealing the back of Sally Donavon's dark hair. John froze as he realized what he had done. Sherlock hissed across their bond, John absent mindedly put his tiny boot on Sherlock's large one. The child applied comforting pressure.

Qui Gon quirked his eyebrows. "You've told him?"

"He has been informed, as I promised." The young man mumbled. Qui Gon gave his shoulders a soothing squeeze.

"He is a smart lad, I told you." Qui Gon patted the young man's shoulder despite his growl and exited the medical bay. The padawan cocked his head to the side in question. Sherlock pulled the rough material of John's hood over the child's eyes.

"Don't do that." He chuckled.

"Why, Master?"

"You look like me." He accused.

The boy beamed. He placed both feet on Sherlock's large boots and tried to balance. His master wiggled his feet and tried to knock the boy off. John giggled until Sally turned. Sherlock snarled softly, John gave him a surprisingly stern look for a padawan.

Sherlock stopped snarling.

"What can I do for you, Knight Holmes?" She asked sarcastically.

"Where is Rica?" Sherlock asked heatedly.

"She is with a patient."

"I can wait."

John nudged him insistently. Sherlock shoved him rudely, the padawan stumbled away from him and into the legs of a beautiful, tall woman. She had short, croppy blond hair, intelligent blue eyes, and a freckled nose. She raised her eyebrows and gave the boy a small smile. John ran to Sherlock.

"Hello Curly." She said happily.

Sherlock scowled at her. "Please don't."

"I forgot, you hate that." And to John's great surprise she ruffled his master hair. Sherlock twisted from under her hand, he glared at John until the padawan dropped his gaze. "What is it this time, Curls? Another broken bone? Or did you fall off another building."

"Kriff off." Sherlock snapped.

"He's got an infection on his back." John said shyly. "He got hurt about four days ago and wouldn't come in."

Rica made a hand motion, when Sherlock refused to move she grabbed the base of his ear and yanked him forward. He snarled, his padawan followed closely behind the two adults. Goose flesh began appearing over Sherlock's elbows, his body was rigid and unforgiving. Rica led him into a small patient's quarters.

"Shirt off, let me assess you."

Reluctantly the young knight pulled off his shirt, blood soaked bandages covered his muscular back. The beautiful healer offered no reassurance, no comfort as she pulled off the bandages. Sherlock was business to her, if she allowed herself to feel affection for a patient they would only suffer. She could not afford to have her judgment impaired. "Those look like electric whip lashings."

The humiliated turned his head towards his friend. He nodded solemnly. Rica pulled gloves onto to her slight hands, she applied minor pressure to the infected area. "How?"

"Tell you later." He glanced towards John. The padawan immediately had tears spring into his sky blue eyes. John pressed himself into Sherlock's leg as he was examined. The master did not comfort, but did not push him away.

"Who is this?" Rica asked as she cleaned away some of the pus. She eyed John with mild interest. Her friend had been gone four months and was not one to pick up pathetic life forms.

"John, Rica. Rica, John." Sherlock inhaled through his teeth. The pain was excruciating, John whimper as the aching was shared across their bond. Sherlock bit through his lip. "Little one, go to your class."

"Master, my classes are over for this day."

Sherlock grunted painfully. "Go find Qui Gon."

"Why?"

"John." He said firmly.

"Master Rica, may I stay with him? Please." John begged. He buried his face into Sherlock's leg, the young knight pushed him away gently.

"John, go."

"Master Rica?"

"John, my padawan is tending to a patient. Why don't you go introduce yourself?" Rica asked kindly as she began draining pus from the gashes. "Stupid barve. You should have come in sooner."

"Yes, Master." Sherlock moaned mockingly.

John's hand was still wrapped tightly in his master's pant leg, John felt protectiveness form deep within him. His eyes blazed as his master gave him an unyielding glare. John reasserted himself on the young knight's boots. "Please." He whimpered.

"Go." Sherlock heaved the child off his boots. Ignoring the discomfort in his back Sherlock bent forward and placed his forehead tenderly on his padawan's. "Go, John."

John wiped his nose childishly. "I don't wanna."

"I don't want you in here." Sherlock said harshly.

John bowed his head. "Yes, Master." The child was clearly miserable. He stumbled out of the healer's room, crying silently. Sherlock let out a low hiss.

"Oh very good." Rica chided him.

"He can feel my pain when he's in the same room." Sherlock snapped. "I can't shield from him, not feel pain, and focus on a healing trance."

"You shouldn't try to shield from him so much." Rica guided him to a medical bed. "Down. Hold still."

Sherlock growled. "I submit to your commands, oh wise Master." His sarcasm caused the young woman to crack him across the back of the skull. He hissed. "For Force sake woman!" He grabbed her wrist tightly. They paused. Gradually he rolled up her tunic's sleeve, long burn marks covered her skin from her elbow the wrist. She took his hand away gently. Sherlock growled guiltily at the injuries.

"Curls, you are going to have to go into the tank." Rica muttered as she laid Sherlock down on his stomach. He closed his eyes in pain.

"No."

"Yes."

"Rica."

"Curly."

"I won't."

"Don't move."

She pricked his upturned arse with a sedation needle. He snarled viciously. She stuck him again, his body didn't react.

"Stop whining, hundark." She ruffled his hair.

"I am going to bite your arm off." He snarled. "I am for from the planet Goria. My animal instincts will kill…"

She stuck him none to gently again.

"Obviously you are mad."

"Clearly."

"I need to go into a healing trance. I am having difficulty shielding from, John."

"He seems like a nice boy, he is very attached to you."

"That is not necessarily a good thing if he insists on feeling my pain."

Sherlock lay so silently Rica assumed the sedation needles had worked. He took a deep breath, letting the healing trance was deeply over him. She began prepping him for the bacta tank, tension rolled off of him like fog over a lake. It took her twenty standard minutes to attach the proper cords, and IV needles. He shook his head in irritation. "I can't shield from him." Ten minutes later the knight was hissing violently. "Rica."

"I feel them."

Sherlock made a frantic hand gesture and two guilt ridden padawans fell from the air vents. John and a little burnet girl landed in a heap on the ground. His padawan had the audacity to look furious. "You shielded from me?"

"You shield from me, do not pretend otherwise." Sherlock growled.

"Not when I'm in pain! You forbade it!" John shouted.

"I am the master, you are the padawan!" Sherlock snarled. "Do not forget your place again, young one."

John exhaled in a huff. "I have not forgotten my place. Two steps behind you and to left isn't that right?"

"I have never asked you to do that." Sherlock's voice was laced with pain. He took another deep breath in. His flattened his palms and pushed himself to look at the little boy, his hand wrapped around the back of his padawan's head, his fingers curled in his hair. He pulled the boy's forehead to his. "You will not feel this, John. That is the reason I took your lashings."

"You should have gone to the healer sooner." John mumbled. He felt his master's thumb run over base of his neck. He peeked at Rica and Mary, Sherlock was being comforting. In front of people.

"You are right." Sherlock mumbled.

"What is wrong with my master?" John asked horrified.

"He has taken enough sedatives to drop a gundark. He is stubborn even in the face of sedation, your master."

Rica ran a hand over Sherlock's face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body slumped forward into the pillows with a shaken breath. His hand fell from John's neck, the boy took a frightened step back. "Is he alright?"

"He is going into the bacta tank and then he will be fine. Though he is going to be extremely uncomfortable for the next few hours. That is the price he will pay for not coming in sooner."

John whimpered. "I told him to."

Rica fitted a breathing mask over Sherlock's mouth and nose. John tapped on his master's knee anxiously, Mary rolled in a hover stretcher, John gave a small cry as Rica loaded his master on to the transporter. She allowed the padawan to follow closely at her heels, he was so young.

And so attached to Sherlock.

"He will be okay?"

"Yes."

"What is wrong with him?"

"There is an infection in his kidneys and liver. The bacta will take care of it, but he is very ill."

The boy reached for his master's fingers, but stilled himself. Sherlock had taught him well, he merely grabbed the side of the hover stretcher. "But he will be okay?"

"Yes." Rica directed the stretcher into a bacta room. She pressed buttons in sequence, the stretcher shuddered aggressively. John stepped away from it reluctantly, but not before pressing his forehead against Sherlock's chest.

"Be well again, Master."

Rica took him gently by the shoulder and pulled him away from the stretcher. The child watched as his teacher was lowered into a tank of sludge substance. It parted as the body was dropped into its core and formed back around him in a tight cocoon. John presses his fingers against the tank, he was crying. "He isn't meant to look like that."

Sherlock floated in suspended animation and to John looked dangerously close to being dead. "He isn't meant to look sick, or hurt. He's supposed to look cocky or strong. My master is not weak."

Rica gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "He is strong, John. I have never seen a stronger man, a stronger Jedi, than your master."

"This is the worst day of my life." John sobbed.

"He will come through, little one."

John shook his head. "Please don't call me that. Forgive me, Master."

"Does it offend you, John?" She asked carefully.

"No, but…" It was what Sherlock called him. It was special, he refused to let anyone else address him as such.

"You adore him." It was a statement.

"Don't tell him. He'll never let me hear the end of it." John pulled a stool up to the tank. He had the need to be close to his master.

"He adores you."

"You heard him yell at me. There's no adoration in his heart."

"John, why did your master want you out of the room?"

"I bore him." The miserable response. "I try to keep interesting so he won't…I try to be good. I make him mad when I talk about Master Mycroft, but only because I want him to know how good I do when he isn't around."

"That man worships you. Not many people can read the great Sherlock Holmes, but we were children together. I know him better than anyone, he could hardly stand it when he realized you were feeling his pain."

John looked apprehensive. "Perhaps…Were you one of the Dark Acolyte's my master saved?"

"Rude."

John blushed. "Forgive me, Master. Sherlock is blunt and is passing on his habits."

She laughed. "With logic like that, how can I not forgive you? Yes, young one. I was. He has saved me many a time when we were children. And I him." She tentatively reached to stroke the child's hair. He accepted her warm touch. "Has he told you anything about his past?"

"He showed me a dream." The boy said defensively. "I know what he was thought to be."

"A Sith." She said softly, poking his wound.

"He isn't." John shoved away the verbal fingers.

"He was." Another jab.

"He was alone." A block.

"Because his former master kept him that way. Alone is the way of the Sith." An uncounterable punch.

"He is a good man." A sloppy attack.

"But not a great man." The finishing blow.

"He is to me." The boy said meekly. "He is to me."

Slowly the female master smiled, she drew John into her side. "He is to me too. But if you say anything it shall be denied."

"Yes, Master." The child whispered. John snuggled into her side, the female knight's tunic sleeve slipped pass her elbow. John's eyes widened at the burns that revealed themselves. Rica rearranged the sleeve to cover the old scars.

"Healed wounds." She smiled. "Nothing to be angry with anymore."

Something was wrong. John could feel the Force pushing him to gently pull the sleeves up again. They were old burn marks, maybe twenty years or older. They were clearly light saber burns…

"My master did this." John said appalled. He could feel it, Sherlock's Force signature was branded in the arms. She took him by the shoulders, her slender fingers caught his chin. She made him look at her deadly gaze.

"Yes. But he did not do it willingly. Understand that John, he was forced. Don't ever think ill of him because of his childhood. He never wanted to hurt anyone." She gripped his chin with more pressure. "He never wanted to hurt people."

John had been Sherlock's padawan for over a month. The lineage of his curiosity was clearly passed from master to student. "Tell me what happened."

"He said no." She said quietly. "No one ever says no to Moriarty, no one who wanted to live says no. Your master was told punish the disobedient children as an act of loyalty to his new master. Sherlock told him to buggar off. Your master told a Sith to buggar off."

John sat completely rigid. His eyes were wide as he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the tale. He rose to place his hand against the tank's clean glass.

"It angered him naturally. He made Sherlock wear a blood crystal over his bare skin and instructed him to beat us. Sherlock was only nine. He couldn't fight the affects, he burned my arms with his saber. He never forgave himself."

"He blames himself for lots of stuff." John said softly.

"Yes. Right now he blames himself for your pain."

"He shouldn't."

"He will. For the rest of his life, he will blame himself for whatever misfortune falls on you."

"Why?"

"You are Sherlock's padawan. One day you will figure it out."


	15. Chapter 15

Sherlock tried not groan as he awoke.

His back was entirely restored, the infection had passed, he propped himself on his elbow with a painful grunt. He was ready to toss the covers off himself when he noticed a blond head lying at his side. It rose and fell, peacefully at rest. Sherlock glanced around the room.

They were quite alone.

He carded his hand through the blond mess, John nestled his palm in his sleep. Sherlock sensed his boy knew even more about his past than before. Sherlock frowned.

_What has Rica told him?_

He gave a small tug on the forming padawan braid. John shifted and brushed his hand away, Sherlock tickled behind his padawan behind his ear. The boy twitched violently. Sherlock experimented on which spots were most sensitive for the child. His arm pits were extremely effective and rendered the boy helpless. He curled into a ball of furious laughter.

John tried to smack the hands away, but found his arms pinned behind his back. He wriggled against the vice grip as his merciless tickle torture continued. His bright blue eyes shot open, his face light up as he smiled at his cured master. John squirmed out of Sherlock's grasp.

"You are alright."

"Clearly." He tapped the child's head. "Dull observation, little one."

The boy grinned slyly. "Master Rica was right."

"About what, worried one?" Sherlock resisted the urge to gather the child to him. John fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Your attitude of course, Master."

Sherlock scowled. "I suppose she said I would be more impudent? More aggressive? Much angrier?"

"She said it would be much improved. I can say truthfully my master, you do seem less crotchety." The boy said cheerfully. Sherlock could fight it no longer, he scooted to the left and raised his arm invitingly. John crawled into the bed next to his master and rested his head on the strong chest. "I am glad you are alright, Master."

"You didn't think you would get rid of me that easily did you, little one?" He rubbed his chin over the fine hair of his padawan. John curled into a tighter ball in his master's side.

"I…I was slightly worried." The child whispered. "You didn't look very good."

Sherlock collected him against his chest and covered both of them with the blankets. His hand stroked the child's back soothingly. No more words were spoken, no more words were needed. John readjusted himself on his master's chest. He flung his boots off to the side and settled beneath the nape of the young knight's neck. John's thumb strayed towards his mouth as he relaxed.

Sherlock did not correct him.

"Master?"

"Little one?"

"Did you really tell a Sith to buggar off?" John's voice was breathy and childish.

"I vaguely recall telling him off in such a manner." Sherlock mumbled in the boy's hair.

"Fantastic." The boy breathed.

"And not to be imitated." The master forbade.

John snuggled into his chest warmly. He was hiding his smile at the thought of his master's brilliance. He remembered Rica's words. _You adore him._

_Yes. Take me to court._

_He worships you._

Sherlock did not worship him by any means. He curled deeper into the blankets, Sherlock held him around the middle as the older man leaned forward to pull up another blanket. John yawned softly.

"Cold?"

"No." John mumbled sleepily. "Master, may I ask you a question?"

"You already have, dull child."

"Another one?"

"Little one, that was another…"

"Master." The child rebuked.

"What?" Sherlock chuckled.

"Why do you not want me to walk in the traditional manner?" John's eyes were growing heavy.

"Little one, you know enough about my past." Sherlock said firmly.

"I didn't know it was associated with your past." The boy said defensively.

Sherlock rubbed the child's stomach until he was calmed. He thought for a few moments. "The master I had as a child made me walk in that fashion. You shouldn't have to walk behind me, John. You belong at my side."

_He worships you._

"Yes, Master." John said contently.

oOo

John wasn't ready to fight two on one.

Mycroft flung the boy back into the wall as Master Plo stuck his saber under John's chin. The child growled viscously when told to yield. Mycroft mused at how much like Sherlock John was becoming. "Let him down, Plo. He won't surrender, and I'd hate to have you mutilate the lad."

Plo deactivated his green blade. John sank slowly to the ground with a snarl on his lips. Mycroft deactivated his own deadly blue saber and turned to his other students. John huffed in annoyance, thoroughly embarrassed at his defeat. Mycroft was asking what exactly John had done wrong. The older students raised their hands.

John tuned them out.

He felt incredibly weak, Sherlock wouldn't have been tossed around in such a manner. Mycroft asked for another volunteer, no one raised their hand. Mycroft was a deadly swords master, he was clearly not one to be bested. Mycroft turned back to John, his lips pulled into a sneer.

"How about you, dear brother? Since you insist on questioning my teaching skills." Mycroft was staring just above John's head. The child froze.

_Master?_

Sherlock stepped out of the shadows, his dark hair fell into his face. He looked cold, menacing, and most importantly, unafraid of Mycroft. He didn't acknowledge John as he strode past the young boy, his eyes were trained on both masters. The young knight shrugged. "It could be interesting." Sherlock managed to sound completely bored.

_Where did he come from?_

He pulled off his robe and tossed it in the corner. His saber flew off his belt, but it was not activated. Sherlock cocked his head mockingly, John held his breath.

Plo steadied his blade, the alien master targeted Sherlock's weak spots with his darting eyes. Mycroft leveled his blue blade. Sherlock still remained unmoved, his saber was held loosely in his hand. "First rule, when fighting two on one, prepare to use defense only. At least for the first few moves of the fight." Sherlock said in an uninterested tone.

The other children looked stunned, John nodded seriously. Mike nudged him. "Is that…"

"Shush." John hissed.

Plo charged him first, Sherlock leapt over his head easily in a daring acrobatic flip. Mycroft lunged as Sherlock's feet touched the ground, Sherlock's light blue blade was activated at last and he caught his brother's blade against his own. Plo attacked from the other side, Sherlock ducked and parried. He wasn't even trying to attack.

_Are you watching closely, little one?_

Sherlock deactivated the saber again. He stayed in the middle of the two master, dancing between the blows until Mycroft's attack at last clipped Plo's arm. The alien master stumbled, Sherlock helped him to the ground with a swift kick to the chest. He activated his light saber and it was a stream of blue blurs between the master and the knight. Sherlock pressed Mycroft back into the group of children. The masses separated.

Sherlock jumped into the air and swung a kick at Mycroft's head. The older Holmes barely had time to duck. The knight clipped Mycroft in the arm and was at the same time jabbed in the knee. He didn't flinch.

Neither did Mycroft.

The group of students stood silent, with their mouths gaping at the knight and master. Sherlock glanced down at his knee, Mycroft at his arm. Both man stood straighter and deactivated their sabers. They bowed respectfully. "Class dismissed." Mycroft stated coldly.

Sherlock walked smoothly pass John without a backward glance, the boy hastened to catch up to the tall man. Mike was right on his heels, already asking questions John found foolish.

"Why isn't he a master?"

"I don't know."

"Can he teach you that?"

"If he knows it, he can teach it, Mikey."

"Why didn't you tell me your master was cool?"

John blushed with pride at the last statement. He made to excuse himself from his friend, but as he turned he realized his master had long since gone. "I hate it when he does that."

The youngsters walked in sync for a short time. John reached out his senses to find Sherlock, the knight shielded from him. John groaned. "Damn it."

John stopped, his senses may not have picked up Sherlock, but something else was coming. Something…unfriendly. John wrinkled his nose in disgust, two padawans were strolling up to them. Mike took a step back in order to let the older children pass politely, but instead they halted in front of John. The girl padawan looked to be twice John's age, and the boy looked twelve.

"Quite a display your master put on Johnny." The female said snidely.

"John." The child said in the same bored tone his master often used. "Thank you, I'll be sure to relay the message."

"Make sure to add my sarcasm, Johnny. I wouldn't want it to go over the freak's head." The female smiled sweetly.

John's hand curled into a tight fist. "Take care of how you speak of one's master." The boy snapped in defense. His anger seethed off of him, causing Mike to flinch.

"Take care of how fond of a Sith you are." She countered.

John's concentration on his breathing was slipping. "The closest thing I have seen to a Sith in my life time is your master Donavon."

"You will not speak ill of my master!" She shouted.

"And you will not speak at all of mine! At least my master has never raised his hand to a child!"

"My master says your master tried to kill her!"

"Of course she would you dull idiot! He was ten, twat!" John had taken up swearing from some of the patrons of Tatooine.

"He was a Sith. The son of a Sith's whore. A child of the da…"

John punched her between the eyes. His control was completely gone, he lunged at her as she fell. The boy padawan quickly began punching the smaller child's back. John kicked him in the groin with all his might. The older boy dropped to his knees. Donavon's padawan had found her footing and struck him across the face. John dropped to his knees, but managed to roll away from her kick. The twelve year old boy caught him under the arm pits and held him tightly. Donavon's padawan hit him about the stomach.

John could hear Mike calling for help. He could feel his ribs cracking, his nose bleeding, his wrist throbbing from where the other boy was twisting it back. John looked the female padawan dead in the eye and spat.

Blood and bile mixed together entered her eyes, she squealed and pulled away. John pulled away from the older boy and stomped on his foot with a satisfying crunch. He darted forward with a fist raise and broke the girl's nose. She crumpled like a sack of bricks. John had every intention of breaking her ribs as he was sure she had broken his, when hands caught him under the arm pits and hoisted him into the air.

He squirmed viscously, screaming that it wasn't his fault. Mycroft was kneeling over the female padawan, Plo was examining the boy. John could feel the unseen master pulling his tunics up to examine the injuries.

Sherlock.

"Master, I…"

"John, shut up."

The child kept obediently silent. His master noted the bruising on his rib cage, his wrists, and the swelling on his face. None to gently, he poked the padawan's ribs. John squeaked. Sherlock set him back down on the floor harshly. John cringed, he knew his leg must have been kicked as well as pain shot through it.

"How is she?" His master asked Mycroft.

"Out cold. He?"

"Broken ribs, bruised tendons in the wrist, black eye, bloody nose, and sprained ankle." Sherlock said shortly.

Mycroft frowned. "You sound very at ease with his injuries."

"His healing ability will take care of it." Sherlock glowered at his padawan. "And he started the fight."

John bowed his head in shame. "I was provoked."

"He means he is sorry." Sherlock said shortly. He turned on his heel without a movement to call John with him. The boy followed closely anyway.

Two steps back and to the left.

He didn't deserve to be at his master's side.

Sherlock led him down to their quarters, not even bothering to check if John's ankle was allowing him to keep up. John limped pathetically behind. He waited for Sherlock to rebuke him, yell, insult him, but nothing came.

And that hurt him the most.

Once inside their quarters John limped into his bedroom and flung himself down. Sleeping would help him heal and with so many injuries it would take him at least three days to be back to normal. He buried his face in his pillow and prayed for solace. Sherlock let him be for hours.

As the clock stuck time for supper John exited. His master was on the mats, kneeling and meditating deeply. John knelt across from him.

"Did you think I would be proud of your actions today, youngling?" His master didn't open his eyes.

"No, Master." John took a deep breath in and closed his own eyes.

"Then I ask you why you felt the urge to punch your fellow padawan in the nose?" Sherlock took a steading breath in.

"She insulted you, Master." John answered bluntly.

"And?"

"I was offended, naturally."

"Why?"

John blinked in confusion. Sherlock still hadn't opened his eyes, he was breathing deeply.

"Because she called you…"

"Yes?"

"A freak." The boy said harshly.

"What is the definition of freak, youngling?"

"An abnormal being, Master." John wanted his master to open his eyes and either rebuke him or comfort him. At last the blue eyes opened and looked unwavering into his. He rose for a medical kit and came back with ointment in hand. He started below John's swelling eye.

"Am I normal, John?" He applied the ointment to a small cut.

"Of course not, Master." The boy huffed.

"Then why did you take offense to a factual statement? Why did you take offense to her insulting me, when I am clearly unbothered by it?"

John faltered. Sherlock made him sound so stupid, so inexperienced. He bowed his head. "I don't know, Master…"

Sherlock cupped his cheek in his hand. "Shirt off. Let me get to your ribs." The boy obeyed painfully. Sherlock examined the bruised area. "You offended my teachings today by thinking that was acceptable, John. So no. I will not comfort you, you must stop looking at me like you expect it."

The child hiccupped. "Yes, Master." John stood silently as Sherlock poked him mercilessly. He twisted wildly as Sherlock tried to medicate a particularly sore bruise. John hissed through his clenched teeth. "Master, may I sit? My ankle…"

Sherlock hooked him under the arm pits and hoisted him into the air. John immediately wrapped his arms and legs around Sherlock's body. The knight sat him gently into a rocking chair and pried the boy's arms from around his neck. He knelt at the child's feet and began reinforcing the thin ankle with bandages. "Master, what do I do when people say cruel things? I don't understand."

"Little one, do you wish to know the secret to pissing others off?" The master inquired seriously. The child leaned forward and nodded. Sherlock stared him dead in the eyes. "You must agree with them."

"What? You want me to agree that my master is a freak?" The child recoiled.

"I agree with it." Sherlock said solemnly.

"They called you a Sith, Master!" John shouted.

"Twenty-two years ago they were not wrong."

"Master!"

Sherlock tapped his knee aggressively. John grabbed his fingers. The knight glared at him until the child bowed his head. "Agree with them and you will see."

John continued to cling to his fingers. "I…"

"If you hit another person in my defense they will take you away from me." Sherlock said bluntly. "Padawan, this aside I would rather be mocked than allow you to hit someone. It is a dark road you go down if that is your response to things you do not agree with. They…they only say things like that because they don't understand. But you do, John." He cupped his padawan's cheek and wiped away forming tears. "Promise me no more."

"Yes, Master."

"The words, little one."

"I promise."

They placed their foreheads together softly, neither one of them noticing the hidden master that watched them in the doorway. Mycroft backed out slowly without alerting either Jedi to his presence. He had gone in search of discipline, and left satisfied John would never hit anyone unjustly again.

"Master….will you find your reed pipes? I had a dream, you are supposed to play them again."

Sherlock nodded against the young forehead in agreement. Truth be told he missed playing. "Are you hungry?"

"Dull observation, Master." The padawan mocked.

"Insolent barve."

"Am I forgiven?" The child asked cheekily.

"The moment the deed was over."


	16. Chapter 16

"I said no, padawan."

"And I asked why, Master."

"You should simply accept my answer, padawan. It is a closed discussion." The master preformed attack parry number six, John countered with a swift defense parry number four. Sherlock leveled his saber, John lunged with attack parry five. Sherlock swatted him on the hindquarters as he sidestepped, the child howled in mock rage. Sherlock snickered as the child rubbed his backside sorely.

"Master, I have driven the speeder before." The child whined. He regained his footing on a loose pole.

"You can't even reach the pedals, John. How do you expect to pilot a cruiser alone?" Sherlock steadied his deadly blue blade in his padawan's face, the boy deflected it away.

"Master, it's no different than pod racing on Tattooine!"

"When have I ever allowed you to pod race, little one?" Sherlock leapt from pole to pole. The ground was littered with different sized balancing rods, John nearly lost his equilibrium. The child hopped on the tallest one available and glared his master straight in the eye.

"The other younglings are…"

"I thought you did not want to be associated with the term "youngling". I also remember closing this conversation." Sherlock flipped over the boy's head easily. John twisted in time to receive a burning slash to his barely healed ankle. It had been a week, but the tendons and muscles refused to heal. He crumpled to the ground with a loud yelp. "The answer is no, John. You are forbidden to race on the outskirts of Coruscant. If the others are doing it, it is under their caretakers' awareness."

"Geedo said Master Anderson said…"

"All the more reason for the answer to remain as no." Sherlock said firmly. "And I will inform Anderson of such rumors."

"You are so…!"

"Responsible? Caring? Correct? Away with you my padawan. You are beginning to bore me." Sherlock waved him away carelessly. The child had been fussing over the alleged cruiser race all evening, Sherlock's already thin patience was cracking. He deactivated his saber.

His padawan set his jaw and clambered back onto his pole. "Master Qui Gon said you used to race cruisers all the time!"

"As I recall I was sixteen and able to reach the pedals. And my master made sure I paid for it for the next few weeks." Sherlock scratched the back of his head with his saber hilt. John turned his head away from his master bitterly.

"I only wanted to try."

"John you are eight. Eight. You must stop trying to grow up so fast." Sherlock pulled his robe across his shoulders silently, aware of John's disappointed gaze. "My answer should be enough for you."

"Yes, Master." John said quietly.

"You will have to eat supper at the dining hall tonight."

"Yes, Master."

"John, I mean it. Stay away from the elder younglings if this is the games they play."

"Yes, Master."

Sherlock came to rest in front of John's towering pole. He motioned for the boy to lean over, their foreheads touched. John did not relax any as brow met brow. Sherlock could sense conflict within the young boy's thoughts.

John had never struggled with obedience before.

They needed to get away from Coruscant.

"Go." He stated quietly.

John bowed low to him and scurried away. Sherlock watched him go with a low sigh, the boy was as readable as an archive.

He was going to the race.

oOo

"You're word."

"Of course."

"The words." Sherlock's padawan demanded. The aura of authority circled the boy's head, he was in a dangerous mood for a young Jedi.

"I give you my word I will no longer speak ill of your master if you win." The girl held out her hand with a cocky grin. "And you give your word if you lose, you will serve me obediently until you are knighted." A treacherous thing to bet one's freedom, John hesitated.

Mike shook his head fiercely. A pleading look spread across the worried child's face. "John, don't. Your master will be cross."

"I give you my word." John shook her hand firmly.

"John…" Mike whispered.

John was already boarding his adjusted cruiser, he threw Mike an angry look. "He won't be cross if you don't say anything. Mike, I'm sick of them insulting my master." He ran his hand over the controls, the cruiser roared to life. Mike stepped back in fright. John's eyes trained on the female's cruiser, he gave a silent vow to win.

"Sherlock will find out." Mike protested.

"He won't if you don't tell him." John snapped.

"John, people die!"

"My master may be able to deflect their comments, but they bother me." John said firmly. "He is a good man."

"If you know that why must you prove it? Please John, this is hazardous! You have to beat everyone, not just Frida! You'll be a slave."

John hesitated. His fingers drummed over the steering gears, he had heard rumors of people dying in crashes, or people who had mysteriously vanished. He sighed softly.

"You don't understand, Mikey. I may be eight, but I can handle myself. Sherlock taught me a lot. And I am willing to do anything to get my master's name cleared." John trained his eyes towards the starting line where other competitors were lining up.

"And you seriously think driving a dangerous race will clear my name, padawan mine?" A deep voice said deadly above him. John gripped the steering wheel until his fingers were stark white. He glared angrily at Mike.

"You told." He hissed.

The youngster dipped his head in a nod. "People die, John. And you're younger than me. Elders protect…"

"Shut up, Mike." John snapped. He refused to look at Sherlock. "You wouldn't understand what it's like to have someone say awful things about your master. It is undeserved cruelty."

"The only underserved cruelty I have endured today is your disobedience. And yes I do know. Get out of the cruiser, John. This race isn't worth the punishment I'd have for you."

"It is to me." The child said softly.

"Is it? Whatever you have bet young Donavon's padawan will be carried out, I assure you. You will do whatever she has claimed you'd do if she were to win."

John gaped at him. "Master, please…"

"Out of the cruiser, John, I will not tell you again." Sherlock said coldly.

"How does this not hurt you?" The boy demanded.

"Because they are unintelligent and do not understand. You on the other hand have a perfect grasp on my past, one that I've only ever shared with one other person. You of all people should understand that I do not care what uncivilized buffoons think of me and until you proved to be one of them I cared what you thought, but if this…" He waved his hand towards the cruiser. "I told you not to solve your issues in this manner." Sherlock glared across to the starting line with a small sigh. "Perhaps Mycroft is right. I am ruining you."

"Master!" The young sob. "I didn't solve it with violence. I didn't, I swear, but they insulted Master Qui Gon and Rica and I…"

"We will discuss it back at our flat." Sherlock cut him off shortly.

Sherlock folded his arms in his sleeves, if the boy defied him any farther it would not end well. The boy recognized the dangerous look across his master's face and killed the engine. He remained in the seat, defiance danced across the bond. Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Do you require help out, padawan?"

John vaulted out of the cruiser easily, he didn't look at Mike as he stalked pass in quiet fury. He limped angrily a head of his master, not once looking back to see where his fellow padawan was. Sherlock's frown deepened.

This could not carry on.

John continued to stalk a head of his master until their quarters were reached. Sherlock opened the door with a stiff wave of the hand. John stomped his way into the kitchen and yanked out a water packet. Sherlock shed his robe and remained silent.

His being in conflict with itself.

_He was ruining John._

But the child was that. A child.

_He could not continue to have such an attitude and be a great Jedi._

_And if Sherlock was the one teaching him, who was to say the attitude wouldn't escalate_.

He needed to meditate.

"I was trying to make you proud." John's anger broke through the silence.

Sherlock turned to his padawan with a disapproving glare. "Congratulations. You have failed. Miserably."

"So it is like every other day then?" The child was enraged.

"You will not throw this at me, padawan." Sherlock said thunderously. "You know I care for you. Do not pretend otherwise."

"It is not I who pretend otherwise, Master. I do not hide my pride when I feel it as you do."

"No. You punch padawans' noses or run off to get yourself killed." Sherlock said venomously.

"You act as though your pride in me is shameful!" The child raged.

"I said I care for you." Sherlock said coldly. "I never said I was proud of you."

He successfully crushed the boy's soul to bits. John bowed his head, his worst fears confirmed. Sherlock froze at his hateful words.

"I didn't mean that." Sherlock looked at John with pain in his eyes. "John, I did not mean that at all."

John took a step away from him, tears glistened on his cheeks. "Yes you did, Sherlock." He ran into his room without a backwards glance. Sherlock let out a howl of pain that sounded like a wounded animal. He dropped to his knees, his cheeks flushed with the rage he felt towards himself.

He didn't have friends.

He had one.

And now maybe he was gone as well.

Sherlock stared at John's door, praying that the child would come out and all would be forgiven as it always was. But this time Sherlock had crossed a line.

He could feel the child desperately trying to shield from him, but the effort was wasted as the child's distress brought down his own defensive walls. Sherlock dropped his shields completely, he wanted John to feel his pain. To know that his master loved…

Oh.

Sherlock clutched at his kriffing heart.

This had to stop.

He stalked into the kitchen and pressed a small button under the sink. A secret drawer revealed itself and in it Sherlock's most precious treasure.

Aside from the sobbing child in the opposite room.

He didn't dare knock on the boy's door, for fear of rejection. Slowly, silently, he pushed it open. John's face was buried deep into a pillow, but the corners were flushed a deep scarlet from crying so hard. His tiny body tremble. His master's robe that he often slept with was thrown on the other side of the room. His teddy bear was crushed beneath the child's strangling arm. He shook his head as Sherlock entered.

"Go away."

"John…" The master said softly. "It was an angry retort. Nothing more."

"Leave me be, please. Go away." He cried.

"Do you believe me, little one?"

"No. Please leave." John said more firmly. Although his voice hitched and broke his master's heart.

Sherlock moved to the side of his bed fluidly. "It is time for you to sleep." He said, pleading the child gave him permission for their night ritual. No matter how enraged the other was, Sherlock always tucked John into bed for the night.

"I am too old for tuck ins, Sherlock. I wish to be left alone, please." John hiccupped loudly. Sherlock hid the pain that flashed through him with the grace of a Jedi.

"Very well." He said softly. He played with the end of his pipes tenderly. The day he received them had been the third worst day of his life, topped by Lestrade's passing. The day he gave them away would be his first. He knelt at John's side, the child did not stir. Sherlock didn't expect to have the pleasure of seeing the bright blue eyes.

He laid the reed pipes near John's hand. The child did not even give him the courtesy of a squirm. He lay completely rigid.

"They are yours. Little one, I beg of you listen to one last lesson. Pride in oneself is a dangerous thing, it leads to only harm of others. Especially people we care most about. It leads to words we do not mean, in order to maintain dominance. This, I fear, is due to my upbringing and not something I can change. I was touched by your loyalty, truly. I was honored that you cared enough to worry about my feelings. It is a gallantry I am not used to, and I fear I handled it incorrectly. I simply did not want you to feel anger towards others as I did when I was your age. You have every right to be angry with me. But please, John. Let this anger die here. Carry it no farther. And know that even if this my last lesson to you, it was an honor to be your teacher."

John gave a low whimper. "It's not okay…"

"I know, little one." Sherlock bowed his head farther. "I will seek the council for guidance. I am not fit to judge your wellbeing, as I am not used to feelings."

John rolled over and looked at him hard. His tiny fingers traced the reed pipes outline delicately. "What will the council do?"

"Your apprenticeship will be transferred to Mycroft." Sherlock said honestly.

"And you?" John whispered.

Sherlock thought for a moment. "I will resign the Jedi order."

John pulled at his own sleeve. "You should stay."

It broke the young knight's heart to hear John say that instead of denying Mycroft. "It is pointless. There was one person who trusted me here, and I have killed that trust with empty words."

"Empty words hurt just as terribly." John closed his eyes in pain. Pain that Sherlock caused.

"Especially when they come from people we care about." Sherlock wanted to put his forehead to John's, but refrained. "I will speak to Yoda about you transfer tomorrow, if the wait is acceptable."

John blinked tears. "My tummy hurts."

Sherlock bit back several retorts about the use of the word "tummy". He reached a timid hand forwards and rested it on the small stomach. "Breathe deeply. It will pass." John nodded and closed his eyes. "It will pass." The master assured.

"Sherlock…" The child reached for him. "Don't quit the order."

"You are too young to understand, my path is tainted." He said softly, rubbing slow circles over the child's stomach. "You will not suffer for my darkness again."

John whimpered softly. The sound of innocence shattering. "Don't leave me."

"I won't until dawn." He promised. Slowly the circles became larger and more soothing. An ancient healer's technic.

The boy shook his head. "Master…"

He was so lost.

Sherlock carefully reached for the pipes. He wet his lips before setting them on the middle pipe. The softest melody ascended from the beautifully crafted pipes. It started low and jumped to high shortly, before sinking back to low again. Sherlock played until the lost look on John's face calmed. He laid the pipes back down next to their new owner.

"Keep them safe for me. Promise?" He whispered.

John answered by handing him his stuffed bear. Sherlock wrapped his hand around the plush doll, John pulled himself closer to the young knight. "I want to stay with you." He whimpered.

"Little one. My little one, you can not. I will only hurt you farther, and I can't take that kind of pain again."

John pressed his forehead against Sherlock's. "I am sorry I disappointed you, Master. Please, don't leave. I'll be good…just don't leave."

"John…" Sherlock was amazed. How could the child blame himself for their argument so fiercely, when it was clearly the elder's fault?

"I'll be good." He swore. "I will be. And one day you will be proud of me. Please stay."

Sherlock brow furrowed in confusion. "Little one, how can you think I am not proud of you? How can you think those words meant anything other than missed place aggression?"

"I am not interesting, nor am I big, or muscular. I barely come up to your waist, I cannot hold my own in a light saber duel. I cry too often, I will never be as smart as you. I…"

Sherlock pulled the child against his chest. "You are only eight, John! You will grow, you will learn. Your size is irrelevant to me, I know I am…I was raising a child into a knight. And yes you do cry too often, but I do not cry enough." He buried his head in the soft blond hair. "And you are less clever than I, but you are so much better. You are the light, little one."

John hugged Sherlock tightly. "You mustn't go. Please. I…I love…"

"Shhh." Sherlock soothed. "Shhh. Shh. Sh."

"I have much to learn." John cried. "I want to learn it from you."

"I hurt you." Sherlock mumbled. "I will never forgive myself for the pain I caused you, little one."

"Master, they are healed wounds." John buried his face in Sherlock's neck.

"If they transferred your apprenticeship what would you do, little one?" Sherlock was testing him. If he responded with run away or anything similar Sherlock would have to give the boy up.

"I would accept your judgment, Master. And I would be respectful." John sniffed loudly. "But I would miss you."

Sherlock gathered the boy closer to him. "I am proud of you, little one."

"I am proud of you, Master." The child repeated.

"I am still disappointed in your decision to go today." Sherlock had to remain the responsible one. It was not something that could be ignored.

"I humbly apologize for handling the situation poorly, Master." John said into his neck. "And I am still frightened that you are not proud of me."

Sherlock placed a long kiss on the boy's smooth brow. "I will do what I can to ease that fear, my little one."

John nuzzled his chest. "You will not leave me?"

"Not until you tell me to go." He promised.

"Never." The boy swore. He wiggled back into his bed and waited patiently for a tuck in. Sherlock slid next to him and felt the boy curl into a ball at his side. He ran his fingers softly over the small back.

"Will you allow me to speak to Qui Gon about this, little one?" He asked softly.

"Why, Master?"

"I wish to make sure my decision is based on what is right for you and not my attachment." Sherlock collected the ball against his side and curled tightly around the small figure.

"I suppose so…yes. I am terrified of what he might say." The boy said truthfully.

"As am I, my little one. As am I."


	17. Chapter 17

For once he woke before Sherlock.

The child was cradled in the center of his master's body, the tall figure was wrapped carefully around him, as if to protect him from the rest of the world. John's face was pressed deep within Sherlock's chest when he awoke, the boy nestled deeper into his master's hold. He had never felt so comfortable in his life.

Then why at the same time did he feel so hollow?

The fight.

They had fought terribly.

John pulled his teacher's arm around him and willed the memory away. It was a deed that would take a while to forgive, but it did not stop John's admiration of the elder Jedi. It was a not quite healed wound that John was still licking, but as he noticed his master's tightly drawn face, he knew the Jedi had his own wounds to clean. Sherlock's arm involuntary tightened around the child in his sleep.

John still felt safe, despite his previous hurt.

His master gave a low groan of pain as John nudged him in the ribs. The padawan stopped swiftly, he realized it was the first real time he saw his master sleeping. The dark haired man looked younger, but his cocky expression was gone. To John's horror he realized Sherlock looked anxious when he slept.

John prodded him gently in the stomach, but the elder merely grimaced. The boy felt a desperate need to wake his teacher up and carefully pressed his forehead against Sherlock's.

The transportation was immediate.

He was standing on a lush green planet, not unlike his home planet, but with more trees and thickets. He took several steps back in shock, his back struck something hard. He yelped and twisted around.

Sherlock's surprised face was looking down at him.

"Little one?"

"Master!" John fussed over his rumpled clothes, before casting Sherlock a curious look. "Where are we?"

"In your room still." The elder said smoothly. "It seems you have managed to dream jump." Sherlock laced his fingers through John's hair. "You are in my nightmare."

"How?" John asked softly. After last night all he wanted to do was curl into Sherlock's warmth. He leaned into the elder man's leg.

"I believe it is the Force's way of explaining why I am the emotionally handicapped man before you. Someone wishes for you to understand more about me." He continued to graze the child's head.

"Not you?"

"Believe me, John, I would not show you this memory. This is a lesson my…master taught me that I did not want to share with." John felt momentary excitement at the thought of seeing Lestrade teach Sherlock, but his master's voice was far off. His ice blue eyes were staring at a child no older than John, with dark curly hair and sharp cheekbones all dressed in back. The boy was playing with a small akk pup.

Sherlock, John's Sherlock, hoisted the boy into the air and held him close. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock's neck and watched the scene unfold. Waiting patiently for a silver haired master that would not come.

Little Sherlock was feeding the pup meat from his hand, the pup bounded up and down as the child giggled. He held the meat in the air with the force, letting the pup reach for it, before eventually giving it to him. The pup growled in appreciation, the younger Sherlock giggled and handed the pup more food.

John's Sherlock tightened his grip on his padawan and twisted violently away from the unfolding events. He held John's ears between his shoulder and his hand. The child never heard the light saber activate, the pup yelp, and his younger self shriek.

"What happened?" John asked quickly after being released. He peered over Sherlock's shoulder.

"John, don't look." Sherlock tried to say, but his padawan would have none of it. Curiosity drove him to stare back at his master's smaller self. A red light saber glowed over the pup's dead body. John's body went livid.

"He killed the pup!" John yelped. "Why? Why, Master? I don't understand!" John wiggled in Sherlock's arms, his teacher tried to soothe him swiftly.

"You should not have feed him your precious food." A cruel high pitched voice was saying scornfully. John's Sherlock tightened his grip over his padawan. John and little Sherlock cowered at the voice. "Now the only thing you have left to eat is him."

The younger Sherlock cast a grieving look at his pup. "Her." He whispered. He rose to his feet and brushed himself off. He gave an icy look towards his owner.

"He, she, it doesn't matter to me. Hmm, I'm a poet, and I didn't even know it. The point is my young apprentice there is only one emotion you are allowed to feel. Well two. Loyalty towards me, and anger. Any other emotion is forbidden. Such as happiness and compassion. Yuck." The Sith master stepped out of the shadows. He was smaller than the present Sherlock, but his eyes were black as coal and his very being radiated dark power. John whimpered. Darkness followed closely behind him out of the shadows and wrapped themselves around his ankles lovingly.

"Master, she was only a puppy." Little Sherlock protested. "She didn't do nothing."

"Anything. Don't. Be. Stupid." He smack the little Sherlock across the back of the head with each word. "And you will not feel anything other than anger and loyalty. Repeat that."

"She was my friend!" The boy shouted painfully. "You kriffing bastard! There was no reason for you…"

"Listen to me you little whelp." The man grabbed Sherlock's neck and made him look into his blackened eyes. "Anything you care for I will take from you and until you learn to control you rage and use it, there is nothing you can do to stop that. One day, my padawan, the Sith empire will be yours to rip from my hands, but until than loyalty and anger. Repeat that."

"Shan't." The boy said stubbornly.

The knarled hands curled tighter around the thin throat. Black eyes bore into icy blue, and though John could not feel it Moriarty shattered Sherlock's young mind shields. "Repeat it."

The boy struggled for breath. "Loyalty and anger."

"Again."

"Loyalty and anger!"

"Once more time, little slave."

"Loyalty and anger, damn you!"

"Are you angry yet, young one?"

"Yes. One day I will kill you!" The child spat at his master. The Sith smiled, clearly approving of his padawan's outrage.

"Good." He threw the boy down. The child skidded painfully over the dirt, his master vanished. Sherlock curled into a ball on the dirt and wept for what had, in reality, been an hour, in the dream a few seconds. The dream ended with Sherlock digging the pup's grave.

Both Jedi awoke with a start.

Sherlock pulled John tightly against his chest. "Are you alright?"

"That evil hundark!" John swore.

Sherlock tried not to chuckle. He stroked the child's back comfortingly. "Watch your mouth, little one."

"Kriff that!" The child swore again. "I can't believe that he did that. Damn it! Why was he so mean to you? What drives a person to be that cruel?" Sherlock silently vowed he would stop taking John into Tatoonie's bars.

"Be still, John." The knight said sternly. "It is the way of the Sith, and it was meant to show you why I am an emotional cripple."

"But you did not send me there?"

"Of course I didn't, why would I fuel your protective ambition after we spent an evening arguing about it?" Sherlock sat up with his padawan held against his chest. "And you will watch your mouth for the rest of the day, have I not taught you restraint?"

John pondered for a moment. "You have taught me much, Master, but restraint is something foreign to me."

"Padawan, you will run laps for every swear word uttered from here on out." Sherlock said with half-hearted scorn. The child's attitude suggested what he dare not hoped for. He shoved the boy out of the bed forcefully with a small chuckle. "Go. Use the shower, before I beat you beyond walking." Sherlock's teasing was cautious.

_Am I forgiven?_

John wagged his tongue at the knight and quickly stepped into his chest. Sherlock made no move to hold him, but he rested his chin on the blond hair. "I am a hundark."

"An annoying hundark."

"John."

"An annoying, nagging, hundark."

"John."

"An annoying, nagging, know it all, hundark."

"Little one, that is three laps."

"Yes, Master. I believe you have one as well." John wrapped his arms around his master's upper body. "You will tell me what Master Qui Gon says?"

Sherlock pushed the child away gently, so he could kneel in front of him. He cupped the boy's cheek. "You will be the first person I talk to after Qui Gon." The knight promised. "But I want you to meditate on last night. I want you to assure yourself that I am right for you."

"You are." The child said stubbornly.

"Padawan, I want you to think on it." Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's. "If you decide otherwise I will step aside for you."

John's tiny hands cupped his face. "With all due respect my master, shut up." The boy gave him a sloppy hug and darted towards the shower. Sherlock watched him go.

Is this the same boy from two months ago, who nearly fainted when I first told him off?

He took a deep breath in. He needed to steady himself, he needed to talk deep breaths, he needed to eat. He ruffled his hair in frustration, he could still sense his padawan's apprehension. John was deeply troubled, but refused to act on it.

_Why?_

Sherlock stared at fresher door.

_Could it be because John loved…?_

No. It was foolish to theorize without all the facts. He let his hunger rule him and made his way to the kitchen. From the cupboard he pulled out several biscuits and devoured them with a fierce appetite that he had not felt before. It had been a week since he last eaten.

He needed to start monitoring that better.

John emerged from the shower with his hair sticking into the air at all angles. He had his towel wrapped around his bare shoulders, his attention was trained on Sherlock's breakfast. He cocked his head. "Has a month passed already?"

Sherlock scowled at him. "Little one, you eat so much of my food, have you perhaps thought that I do not eat because I must feed you?"

"It has never crossed my mind, Master. When I am hungry all I can focus on is eating." The boy said truthfully. "May I have a biscuit as well?"

Sherlock held the biscuit high over his head and nodded. John frowned deeply.

"Rude." He huffed.

"We have agreed that I am an annoying, nagging hun…"

"Know it all." The boy interjected.

"Know it all hundark." Sherlock finished.

"And now you owe me two laps, Master mine." The boy giggled and reached for the biscuit. "I am willing to overlook it for that biscuit."

Sherlock considered it by worrying at his lower lip, John pouted. Sherlock passed the biscuit down to his padawan, he wrapped the child's towel around his head and dried his hair tenderly. As he finished gave a gentle tug on the forming padawan's braid. John nibbled at the corner of his treat hungrily. "I hope to cut this one day." Sherlock said softly.

John froze at the end of his biscuit. "You will, Master."

"We will see." He rested his hand on the child's fair head. Anxiety filled both Jedi's chest and threatened to burst out, John gave a small whimper. Sherlock cupped the side of his face tenderly. "Do not cry." He said firmly. "You are my padawan, you are pass crying."

John nodded, tearfully disobeying his teacher. Sherlock sighed heavily and exited into John's room, he called to his boy softly. John entered hesitantly, his knees clattered together. Sherlock was sitting at ease on his bed. John, who was still convinced he was to blame for the terrible events that transpired, knelt at his master's feet.

"You are still angry with me." And it was the elder that spoke.

"I…"

"Padawan, if you think I cannot read you like a holocron, you are sadly mistaken." Sherlock said shortly.

"It is not anger, so much as it is fear." John admitted quietly. "Jedi do not lie, Master…there must have been some truth to your words."

"Little one." Sherlock pulled his padawan onto his feet, the boy looked miniscule in his broad hands. "The only thing in those words was anger. I promise you this."

"Anger at me." The miserable response.

"Anger at disobedience, anger at the lack of concern for one's own life, and anger at myself for not stopping you sooner. Anger at your actions, John. Not at you." Sherlock said meaningfully.

"I was angry at you, Master. I fear I will never understand how you take such insults with a grain of salt, nor will I be able to duplicate this technic. I was angry at how little you seem to care for yourself."

Sherlock shrugged. "John, I can take care of myself. Remember this. It is you that requires protection, my little one."

"I am still upset." The child confessed despondently.

"As am I, but…" Sherlock rested his reed pipes in John's hands. "Insurance. I am not going anywhere without you or without these. As of now I am still your master and we will continue to act as such until our bond is severed."

"Yes, Master." John whispered. He sidestepped his master, his hand reached behind the elder and passed him the small teddy bear that often cured nightmares. He knelt quickly. "I am not going anywhere either." John ran into his master's arms for a final time. "Except to class. Unless you really can't stand it, then I can always skip…"

"Go, you arrogant child." Sherlock gave him a small shove. "Before I decide to keep you for laps."

He watched the child scurry away with a hesitant smile.

There.

Fixed.

Like adhesive tape over a dam crack.


	18. Chapter 18

Qui Gon was sparring fiercely with his eager padawan.

The boy was admittedly refined in his technics, his thin stature didn't waver under his master's deadly strikes. Sherlock wondered if John would ever move with that grace. His padawan had the curse of heavy tread, his feet rarely left the ground. Sherlock watched the young man dance about the Jedi master and smirked.

John would be better someday.

Qui Gon's sensed the young knight observing him and with a small sneer succeeded in disarming his young padawan in one foul swoop to his wrist. The young man pulled away from the burning saber and watched helplessly as the older man snatched his blue saber from the air. He gave a small bow to his padawan, which was not returned. The young padawan wrinkled his nose in distain. "You insult me by going easy on me, Master."

"Padawan mine, you praise me by assuming I have taught you well enough to take on the full wrath of a Jedi master." Qui Gon said easily. He threw the young man's light saber back to him with a flick of the wrist.

"You are correct, Master mine. I praise you far too much." The padawan at last bowed low. Qui Gon snickered.

"Away with you, brat. I have business to attend to."

"Yes, Master." The boy smiled mischievously at the master and darted out to the lockers.

Sherlock leaned against the doorway heavily. "I am glad to see that my padawan is not the only one with an arrogance streak." He bowed to his elder.

"Compared to you as a padawan, that was quite tame, my young friend." Qui Gon's very voice seemed to be smiling. It was that voice that lured Sherlock to speak to more than just Lestrade as a child. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes.

"I would appreciate the withdraw of such information from my padawan. He seems to think it is acceptable to duplicate some of my many…mishaps." The deep voice was suddenly cold. John wouldn't have raced if he hadn't been informed about Sherlock's previous adventures as a child. What had been left out was the prominent scar across the back of head hidden only by hair.

"I did not take you for the passive aggressive type." Qui Gon said gently, as he felt the younger man's anger. "But if it makes you feel more at ease, I will stop telling him stories."

Sherlock nodded. Paused. At last, defeated, he shook his head. "He would be very cross with me if I did not allow him to hear such stories."

Qui Gon nodded approvingly. "Your master would have told him if he were here today, I am simply caring on his legacy."

Sherlock hesitated. "My master would have known how to handle a situation better than I. It involves…feelings." The last word was spoken with a layer of disgust. "My padawan thinks I am not proud of him."

"Why do you suppose that is?" Qui Gon asked innocently.

"Because in my anger I told him that." Sherlock said bitterly. "I have never had a problem with his obedience before, Master. It felt like betrayal when he at last disobeyed me, and it was such a dangerous act."

Qui Gon extended his arm, welcomingly. "Come. We will discuss this in the meditation chambers."

Sherlock followed closely behind him. "I only need guidance because it has do with something I am not accustom to." He said harshly.

"Of course." The old master said pacifically.

He waved his hand in front of the control panel gracefully. The knight kept himself near the closest thing he had to a master, reluctantly. He wasn't supposed to have such feelings, but Qui Gon and Lestrade's auras were so close it hurt. He knelt on one of the mats and impatiently waited for the elder to sit in a chair.

One ascended, one ascending, the way of the Jedi meditation when searching for guidance. Qui Gon sat down and fold his arms in his sleeves. He nodded towards the young knight to continue his tale.

"I fear I am fulfilling my brother predications. I am ruining my padawan, he is becoming angry, aggressive, and overly defensive."

Qui Gon gave a sympathetic smile. "Sherlock, every time I see that boy he is nothing, but polite. He does go out of his way to help others, and forgive me, I think you mistake protectiveness for defensiveness."

"There is no difference between the two, Master."

"My young friend, defensive is for one's self, protective is for others." He said gently. "And he is only angry when other's insult you."

"I have tried to teach him restraint, Qui Gon. But I cannot get him to let things go. I have failed to teach him compassion."

Qui Gon rested a steadying hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "The goal of that boy was not for you to teach him compassion, but for him to teach you."

"I do not want to fail him…our fight was because I had too much pride in myself. I felt urge to enforce I was the master and he the padawan. I told him I was not proud of him, the pain I caused him was unbearable, Master. His face was contorted in such agony, and he still only blamed himself. I can't…"

"Young one, may show you something?" The master asked softly, the irony was not lost on the master that long ago his old friend had had similar dilemma. Sherlock simply nodded, he remained on his knees as the elder rummaged through a file in the corner. A small data chip was produced and plugged it into a hologram. Two images flashed across the screen. A familiar tall, long haired master and another.

"Master." Sherlock grumbled. He did not want to see any more people he cared about, he had John, that was enough for him. But his master's muscular form was talking urgently to Qui Gon's.

"I am not kneeling before you, Qui." The knight grumped. "New master or not, you will always be the little brat who was trapped in the girl's room, and I crawled through the vents to..."

"If you seek enlightenment, my friend, this is the road you must take." Qui Gon smiled with a miniscule air of arrogance. "However, it is not something that comes without irony."

The figure of his master rolled his eyes. "I would never ask you…"

Qui Gon's figure quirked its eyebrows.

"Alright, alright." Lestrade dropped to his knees before his friend. Qui Gon took a seat in front of him, with a small smile tugging at his lips. "Permission to speak my master." The young man mocked.

"You are the one seeking my help, young knight. I would consider being more pleasant." Qui Gon chuckled at his power. Lestrade scowled.

"This is moderately serious, you know." He muttered to the floor.

"Tell me." Qui Gon said gently.

"Sherlock. I am failing him." Greg turned his head away from the new master. "He is angry all the time, I cannot teach him to shake it. He insists on acting on his rage, Qui." Lestrade wiped his eyes quickly. "And what makes it worse is I agree that he has every right to be angry at his past, every right to hate the man that scarred his back and forced him into a cell at night. I try to soothe him, but yesterday he broke Anderson's foot and now Donavan wants the council to remove Sherlock from my custody unless I prove to be a good guardian."

"Why did he break the young man's foot?" Qui Gon's words were in a soothing tone.

"The little buggar insulted me, and Sherlock took it to heart. I didn't know what he was doing 'til it was too late."

"Did you rebuke him, Greg?"

"Of course I did, I'm not stupid. We argued, he feels he is in the right, and I know he cannot act on anger in such a manner. He is so young, Qui, if I cannot stop his rage now I am not fit to be his mentor."

"You wish to transfer his apprenticeship?" Qui Gon was genuinely surprised.

"I must think of what is best for him." Lestrade spoke bitterly.

"He will see it as abandonment, Greg."

"He is a brilliant child, so insightful and clever. If he had been brought here, instead of to that Sith's spit of a layer they would have never let me near him. He would have been sought after by the greatest masters, instead he is stuck with me. He will see it as a gift."

"Greggy." Qui Gon snapped. "You make it sound as though you are more sorry for yourself than your padawan."

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Lestrade choked. "I've had him for a year now." He lowered his head to the floor, kowtowing before the new master. "Qui, take him as your apprentice. You are greater than I. I humble myself before you, I cannot raise Sherlock in the way he deserves."

"And you believe the former master of one who turned dark can?" Qui Gon asked gently. "You love him." The words were soft.

"It is forbidden to have such an attachment." Greg had not risen from the uncomfortable position. "You know I cannot."

"And yet you do. As all masters do."

"He is like my son. I want what is best for him, even if that is not me." Lestrade whispered to the ground.

"Greg, I will not take your padawan because like Sherlock, you are still learning. He is only eleven, he will get angry and enraged and throw fits. He is only a child. Has he apologized for his actions yet?" The master asked wisely.

The knight shook his head as he rose. "He refuses to see my side of the argument. I left him in his room after chiding the poor kid for an hour. To be fair he was shouting at me for the same amount of time."

"You were patient with him?"

"Course I was. I don't want to shout at the little thing. He'd blow away if I raised my voice."

"Let him out of his room, but Greg do not engage him in anyway until he at least tries to see it from your point of view."

"Sherlock will remain stubborn as always, it will not change his mind." Greg muttered, his knees were beginning to become one with the floor. He just wanted to move.

"Your padawan loves you. After a day, perhaps two of no contact with his father figure he will come to you."

Greg bowed his head. "I love Sherlock, it does not mean he loves me." Lestrade closed his eyes in pain. "He must see how much I am failing him, how unworthy of him I am."

"All masters can see only the worst of themselves, while their padawans can see only the best." Qui Gon countered softly.

"You did not love Dooku my friend." Lestrade said gently. "Nor did I love my master."

"Those were….unlikely circumstances. I doubt you've ever locked your padawan in a Force-free cell as a punishment."

Lestrade flinched, remembering how he found the boy. "Perhaps you are right, Qui Gon. But forgive me if I worry that my attachment is blinding me from what is best for my boy."

"The Force brought you two together, you felt it the moment you found the boy. Sherlock knows it too, I can see it in his eyes whenever you come near him." Qui Gon smiled. "You are loved and forgiven by that boy the minute the deed is over, even if sometimes you both must separate and lick your wounds."

Lestrade kowtowed once more, his forehead pressing against the cool floor. "You are truly a wise master, Qui Gon Jinn. I thank you."

"Raise, young knight." Qui Gon winked. "And bring your padawan to the light."

The image flickered and died with Lestrade's laughing face.

Sherlock stared at long after the image of his master was gone. "I never knew he went to you for advice. I never knew he wanted to transfer my apprenticeship." Sherlock didn't disguise the hurt in voice for once in his life.

"He wanted you to have a master worthy of your talents." Qui Gon rested a comforting hand on the young knight's shoulder.

"He was worthy." Sherlock snapped. "He was an absolute moron for thinking he wasn't. I…"

"Then he wasn't failing you?"

"Of course not. I was only a child, how could he think fights were not the norm. He was always patient, it was rare my master lost his temper. He should have more often, if he was smart. I was an awful child."

"You blame yourself for that fight?" Qui Gon asked innocently.

"It was my fault." The confirmation.

"Greg thought not."

Sherlock scowled. "He was blinded by his affection then. The argument was started by me."

"Child, listen to your own words and find your padawan." Qui Gon said wisely. "You will both need time to heal, make no mistake, but I will accuse you of the same thing I did your master. You love him."

"Master, I cannot love him." Sherlock said angrily. "I cannot love him. I cannot."

"Why, Sherlock?" The master asked with gentle words.

"You know why." The knight snapped viciously.

"I do not." The words were so soft it felt as though the force was speaking to him.

"Because I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because." Rage built up in Sherlock's throat and threatened to burst out of him in one great shout.

Qui Gon called on the similar traits to Lestrade in his aura, he took a deep breath and in his old friends voice said, "Little one, tell me why."

"BECAUSE I KRIFFING LOVED MY MASTER, AND HE WAS TAKEN FROM ME! CAN'T YOU SEE IT YOU IDIOT, HE TAKES EVERYTHING FROM ME. HE TOOK MY MASTER, HE WILL KILL JOHN." Sherlock's scream was violent and explosive. The Force ripped through his words shattering windows and snapping the hologram in two. Qui Gon merely brushed glass from his shoulder.

"Your master knew the risk he took and though it does not make it easier, it was his choice." Qui Gon said lightly. "Anger and fear will not stop your care for this child, young one, it will only hide it. Even from John."

"If Moriarty takes him from me I will kill him." Sherlock said with deadly quiet. "I cannot stop that dark feeling in me."

"Sherlock, calm yourself. I foresee your padawan becoming a great Jedi."

Sherlock took a deep breath in. "Forgive my outburst." He muttered indignantly.

"Go to him, my young friend. Tell him he is stuck with you for the next fifteen years." Qui Gon smirked.

Sherlock nodded and bowed low to the elder Jedi with small thanks. He rushed to find his padawan. Qui Gon watched the young knight go, he closed his eyes and willed Lestrade to hear him.

_I told you, you were loved._

_Bragging does not suite you, Master Jinn. But yes, you did._

oOo

John wiggled his sore ankle.

Sherlock told him he needed to watch his swearing, but the kriffing thing hurt. It had been a week since he had received the injury, it should have been long since healed. He entered a light healing trance, focusing his energy on his ankle and mentally begging Sherlock to come find him. Master Anderson cleared his throat loudly.

"Was the trance at least productive for you Padawan Watson?" He asked with a tone Sherlock had described as akk claws on a chalk board. John cringed.

"Forgive me Master Anderson, I did not realize class had been dismissed." The padawan blushed. He was so distracted, he decided it would be easier to return to the flat and wait for his master. The stool creaked loudly as he pushed it back.

"I haven't seen your master today, John. Where is he?" Anderson's voice had dropped an octave, he pushed his hair away from his face.

"He is with Master Jinn." John said easily. "He should be back soon though, I hope."

"He didn't tell you when he would be back?" Anderson asked with distain.

"My master did not know." John said loyally. He made to step around Anderson, but the knight stopped him.

"Since you think it is acceptable to waste some of my time, I am inclined to waste some of yours, John."

John scowled.

_Please shut up._

"It is a padawan's duty to learn right from wrong, and you will not fall asleep in my class again." Anderson wagged a stern finger under John's nose. It took every ounce of control John had, not to roll his eyes. He tugged at his own sleeves nervously. There was something very wrong in Anderson's aura.

"Erm…yes, Master. I am very sorry, sir. It won't happen again, but I need to go to my master's quarters and…"

"You will help me carry this soiled protective coats down to lab and then you are free to go." Anderson was already passing him a bundle of disgusting smelling clothes. John nearly gagged as the fumes tickled his nose. He held them as far away from his face as his arms would allow. The smell made him dizzy.

"What is this chemical, sir?" John felt like the world was spinning too quickly. He stumbled and leaned heavily into a wall.

"Relax, John. It is called chloroform. It won't hurt you.`" Anderson guided the bundle under the struggling boy's face, a small needle pierced his arm. John gasped, mentally his brain screamed for Sherlock.

"I…don't…why?" The child began to slump forward into unconsciousness.

"The elder protects the younger, my future padawan. We are saving you from that Sith Lord's hold."

_MASTER! MASter… Mas…_

John fell against the knight's arms with the scream still echoing across their bond.


	19. Chapter 19

John woke up with a start.

He was staring at the ceiling of an unfamiliar space craft, that judging by the windows view, was at light speed. John prepared to lift his arm in attempt to scratch his aching head, but was stopped by cold restraining buckles. He was bound to a medical bed. He gave a small whimper, but didn't dare call for Sherlock out loud.

_Master._

Vibrations of the thought bounced back at him with such force he yelped in pain. He buried his head in his own shoulder, the corner of his master's reed pipes poked him comfortingly.

Sherlock would come for him.

Where ever he was.

The door to the med bay sprang open, John narrowed his eyes at the figure stepping through it. The light parted and Sally Donavan appeared prepping a sedation jab. A small whimper escaped the unwilling boy's lips. His head twisted away from the needle indignantly.

Donavan tried soothing him. "It is alright, John. We're almost to our destination, you've been asleep for twenty hours." She smiled.

"You mean I've been drugged for twenty hours." Sherlock's padawan snapped. "I want my master."

Donavan's face twisted into rage as she leveled the needle against his arm. John squirmed away from it as far as his restraints would let him. The icy pierce made the young boy shriek in fear. Donavan nodded approvingly at her handy work. Dizziness swept through John, taking him deep in the state of unawareness. He was still conscious, but could barely process his right from his left.

"Sherlock." He whimpered. "Please, Master."

Donavan pulled him against her side. "It is alright, my child. We are taking you away from that awful Sith. He will never touch you again, his awful influence will no longer be held over you, and you shall be Anderson's padawan." Donavan stroked his hair.

"No! Bad!" The child wiggled against his restraints and the over baring master. "Sherlock! Sherlock!" He screamed. "I want my master!"

"Enough, John. You should be thanking us…"

"Master!" The child sobbed. "Sherlock." Scarlet burst into the child's cheeks as he called for his master through sobs. The cold leather restraints held him in place as he bucked wildly away from his captor.

Donavan pulled away from the boy and picked up another sedition needle. "If you want me to be as evil as your master, fine. Now I will be evil." She jabbed him mercilessly in the arm. John gave into the drug and was swept away.

oOo

"Kid."

John's hands twitched.

"Come on, kiddo." He was being lifted into strong arms and held against a broad chest. His vision was blurry, but he could make out friendly brown eyes, everything else was a dull haze. A faint musk scent filled the air, the aura of tenderness circled the large white room.

Whoever this man was, he wasn't a danger.

"Easy, little guy." He soothed. He gave a mischievous grin. "Breaking a lot of rules coming to see you, kid, but I could feel your fear in the other world." He held John in the crook of his elbow and rocked him as if he were an infant. The muscles in John's face relaxed slightly. The safety that in the past had been reserved only for Sherlock was felt towards this new elder.

"Your master is coming, John." The silver haired man said softly. "You must be brave and stall until he can get there. These people are not…not very nice."

John whimpered into the man's chest. "Sherlock…"

"He is coming my little little one." The tall man smiled. "Stall for him, alright?"

John nodded painfully. "I hurt."

"Shhh, I will stay with for as long as I can." The strange man felt like power and mercy, wisdom and strength. John closed his eyes. The strong chest did not raise and fall with breath, there was no dull heart beat against John's cheek as there was when Sherlock held him.

"I have seen you before." He muttered. "My head is so foggy."

"Little little one, I am afraid that is me." The obscured vision said gently. "The Force does not want me to reveal myself, but yes. You have seen me before."

The child shook his head to clear it. The fog only thickened over his eyes, he surrendered to the will of the force and rested his head against the sturdy chest. "I really, really want my master." He cried. "We had a fight, he will think I-I ran away from h-him." The young voice hitched. "I just want my teacher…"

"He is coming. He is coming. He knows better than to think you ran from him, little little one." Cool lips were placed on the child's brow. "I am starting to fade, John. Be brave for Sherlock, he is coming. Promise me."

"Okay." The soft murmur.

"The words, John."

John's eye fluttered as the vision came into full view. The Force at last revealing John's savior. A gasp escaped through the lips as the man started to fade. John willed the vision back to him, but the grandfather figure continued to fade. "I promise, Master Lestrade."

oOo

Fear blasted through Sherlock's mind with such force that he reeled back into unsuspecting Qui Gon.

_MASTER! MASter! Mas…_

_John!_

The empty echo came back to him, his padawan was clearly unconscious. Sherlock broke into a dead sprint towards John's last class as the boy's half of the bond grew fainter. The door splintered beneath Sherlock's mighty boot, revealing only an empty classroom. Sherlock glanced quickly around the room. "He was here."

Qui Gon gave him a confused look.

"John. John, was here and deathly afraid of something." Sherlock pointed to a small smudge on the wall. "John's height, he leaned into the wall." The knight sniffed the air. "Chemicals, do you smell that?" His heart went into over drive. "Blonde hairs on the desk from where they laid him down in preparation to move him"

"Who?" Qui Gon was at Sherlock's side in an instant. The Jedi master rested a calming hand on Sherlock's back and forced air into his lungs. The young man exhaled slowly. His stomach churned.

"This is Anderson's class, is it not?" The knight's eyes darted around the classroom, his heart grew heavier as more data flooded through him. "I cannot sense him." The young knight dropped to his knees. Air seemed to take its time circulating through his lungs and to his brain. He forced himself to calm, this wasn't his way. He couldn't afford to feel such weakness now. "His Force signature is being blocked."

"Sherlock, be still. I am sure the child is not shielding from you."

"I know he isn't, you miss understand." Sherlock took a slow, embarrassed breath in. "Master, there are collars in existence that block the Force from one's being entirely. They are of Sith's design."

"You are suggesting Anderson is a Sith?"

"That idiot? Don't be foolish, he more than likely acquired one." Sherlock snorted. "My old owner was careless and lift them littered about at his old bases." The knight rose on unsteady knees.

"Do you believe him to be connected to the missing padawans?"

Sherlock worried at his lip. "No. I believe Anderson thinks he is saving John from me. The only thing I can say for certain is the padawans are not on Tatooine. My informants tell me Moran is scarcely on that planet anymore. Not nearly enough to keep padawans under watch."

"Then why…?"

"Mining for blood crystals most likely." The Force began darkening around Sherlock's head. The ice blue eyes narrowed. "I need to get to the hangar bay, find out where he's taken John."

"You believe they will just tell, young one."

A tinted red glow formed around the knight's irises. "I think that is exactly what they will do, Master. It has been a while since my curse has been exercised."

"Sherlock." Qui Gon gripped his shoulder firmly. "We must alert the council, your brother…"

"If you are going to waste time by telling my brother than buggar off. I'm more than capable of doing this myself."

Grey and blue eyes glared into each other menacingly. "We need…"

Sherlock stalked away from him.

"Greg, will you just listen to me!" Qui Gon shouted. Both men froze at the mistake, Qui Gon straightened himself with dignity.

Sherlock cringed. "He is all I have, Master. I will do whatever it takes to bring him home."

"Then let me help. Your master passed because…"

"I know." Sherlock said coldly. "Throwing that in my face is not a good way to convince me to take your help."

"Sherlock, do not let me lose another one I care for."

Sherlock's hands curled into fists. "No."

oOo

John stirred.

He could feel eyes on his face, the cold leather restraints were gone, expect for the one tightened around his neck. The little boy twisted off to the side of the bed and vomited. Dull aching in his stomach and mind made him want dunk his head into a pool of water. Or at least be indulged with a hug from Sherlock.

His eyes fluttered open taking in a bright white room, icicles hung from the ceiling, the air was barely breathable from frost, and John's fingertips were blue. He whimpered like a kicked puppy.

_Stall for him, little little one. He is coming._

_I am so afraid._

His savior fell silent. Abandoned by his only comfort and to make it worse, he could sense nothing. The Force was gone from him.

Gentle hands placed a warm blanket over him, he recoiled in shock and stared into the face of Donavan's padawan. Frida's brow knit together in angst. "Don't say anything, poodoo breath. You looked cold is all." She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not here to serve you, or anything.

"Where…?" He was appealed at how weak his voice came out.

"Hoth. An old Jedi base." She answered hollowly.

John curled tighter in the soft blankets, the fabric rubbed comfortingly against his skin. He blew out a warm puff of viper. The air was freezing. "Frida, my master? Where is he?"

"In the other room with Anderson." She muttered.

"Where. Is. Sherlock?" John hissed. "I want my master, my real master."

"Why?" She spat at him. "You know what he is."

"Yes, I do. And I miss him because of it." John whispered. He threw the blankets aside. Frida placed to warning hands on his shoulders, John let out a low growl. The Force remained cut off from him and therefore gave Frida the upper hand.

She pushed him back against the pillows. "Don't fight them, John. They are on the verge of a nervous breakdown, have been since you left the first time with your Sith."

"He isn't…oh for Force's sake." John grumbled. "What do they want from me?"

"To sever your bond with Sherlock."

"That is dumb, they can't sever it. Jedi bonds are everlasting." John pushed back against her strong hands. How could he stall if the infuriating woman wouldn't let him up?

"They've found a way." She muttered. For the first time since he arrived John noticed Frida crying. He stopped struggling, slowly he touched her hand.

"What is it?" He said gently.

"They've decided to sever my bond with Master Donavan, since you will more likely bond with her. I will be Anderson's padawan." To the young girl's great shock, John hugged her. She cried on the child's shoulder and gathered him into her arms. John cringed at being held by anyone other than Sherlock, but an ally was becoming necessary. His legs dangled behind her as she pressed his head uncomfortably to her breast.

"I don't want to bond with either of them." He sniffed. "Sherlock will come, he will."

The girl padawan's arms tightened. The sixteen year old stiffened. "I won't let the Sith take you either." She suddenly swore. "We can run away together, John. You can be my padawan."

This was getting out of hand.

John needed to find a way to keep them from severing his bond, perhaps giving into the lesser of two evils was the smart move. He quietly prayed for guidance from the Force, but it did not answer. John took a deep breath. He would have to kiss some arse. _Forgive me, Master._

"Master, why can I not feel the Force?" He asked with the tone he used when he wanted something from Sherlock.

The other padawan beamed. "Your collar, my young apprentice." To make it worse she patted his head.

John unwrapped one of hands from her neck and tugged at it with a small whimper. "Hurts."

The only thing that was hurting was his dignity. Thankfully his master would never see it. She reached forward and began undoing the pinching buckle. The Force began to flow through him. Carefully, so as not to alert his fellow padawan to what he was doing, he touched Sherlock's half of the bond. His master's response was immediate and explosive.

_John!_

_Didn't run away._

His mind's voice was barely a whisper.

_I am coming, little one._

_Do you know…_

_Hoth. I know exactly where you are. Did you ever doubt my brilliance?_

_The only quality I will ever doubt in you is humility, Master._

_Are you alright?_

_Frightened._ Again John was appealed with the soft pleading note. _But I'm okay._

Frida freed him from his wretched collar. He gave a small smile in thanks.

_Stall for me, little one._

_Yes, Master._

Frida laid him back onto the bed and tenderly pushed the blond hairs from his face. The boy's knees clattered together from the cold and the posh blanket was laid over him tenderly. John's mind raced with possibilities of escape, he had to get his new "master" to let him out of the kriffing freezer. His pressed his lips together in a tight line.

"Where are Donavan and Anderson?" John asked innocently.

"Prepping the machine to sever our bonds." She said as if far away. John wiggled uncomfortably under the blankets. "I shall make you go first, John. That way I know your being truthful."

John shuddered. "But won't Donavan…"

"My master is blinded by her desire to claim you as her padawan. She can hardly wait to cleanse you of that Sith's spit."

Blood dribbled inside of John's mouth as he clenched down on his tongue. He felt himself grow woozy from the taste. "Can I sit in a tub, please? Or something with water?" It was a genuine request, it would easily calm his senses. "Maybe I could dip my head in a sink." He pleaded.

Frida frowned. "Perhaps. I'd have to ask my current master." She ducked out of the room quickly.

John threw the ridiculous blankets on the floor and heaved himself out of the bed. Stall, he had to stall, but for how long? John glanced around the room swiftly. Sherlock had felt close, but Hoth was quite a way from Coruscant. His master would be there as swiftly as he could, that was good enough for John.

There were three air ducts in the room, two were off to the sides, one was in the ceiling. John grinned, knowing full well he could easily hide in there until Sherlock came. The first side grate popped off with one swift Force pull. He laid it on the ground as a false clue. Calling open the Force once more he brought down the top vent and caught it before it clattered to the ground. He found his collar and shoved it into his pocket. Donavan couldn't find him if she couldn't sense him. He vaulted into the highest air duct, pulling the grate behind him.

It locked into place with a soft click.

After a short distance of crawling over the icy metal John refitted the collar loosely around his neck. As he tightened the last notch he sent a mental message to Sherlock.

_Master, please hurry._

oOo

He had been crammed in a freezing ventilation shaft over a kriffing hour.

The temptation to rip his collar off and simply scream for his master was great, but John bit his tongue and curled into a tighter ball. Perhaps he should have brought the posh blanket. The sensation of hunger made his stomach clench in agony. Hoth was about a twenty-two hour ride from Coruscant.

He hadn't eaten in a full day.

He pulled his tunics around him tighter, they had taken his boots early on. The poor child's toes were beginning to purple. He gave a small cry. The need for comfort welled in his chest and soft whimpering escaped his tired body. He just wanted to go home.

Sherlock hadn't felt more than an hour away, he had felt so close.

John's whimperings became strained sobs. Tears coursed down his cheeks and froze to the soft skin. He couldn't do it for another hour, he would surely die.

He pulled his dirty blond hair into his face for more warmth, his fingers couldn't even straighten any longer. At last the eight year old boy, with no Force to comfort him allowed the sobs to rack through him. He waited expectantly for the sound of his new master to find him.

The child sobbed harder.

He wanted Sherlock so bad it ached.

Rustling could be heard below him, every muscle in his body tensed.

As a blue light saber ripped through the vent cutting him down from his hiding place.


	20. Chapter 20

Strong arms caught him graceful around the middle.

John squeezed his eyes shut and was secured close to a strong chest, a strong male chest. John squirmed deep in Anderson's grasp screaming at the top of lungs. He beat his tiny fists against the firm body in utter despair, there was nothing he wanted more than his master.

"Noooo!" He whined. "Let go! Let go! Buggar off! I want Sherlock!" The boy began to grow hoarse. "Kriff you. Buggar off!"

A robe was being drawn around his freezing shoulders, a mild comfort to a frightened boy. Thin fingers played at the end of his collar and slowly began undoing the notches. John felt himself being tilted back and a container being pressed against his mouth, its heated contains poured slowly pass his lips. The taste of honey and warm milk flowed over his tongue. An odd combination.

An odd familiar combination.

The sky blue eyes forced themselves open, Sherlock cocked his head slightly to the side. "I believe I told you not imitate that line." Sherlock quickly swaddled John's frozen feet under the robe blanket. John gave a small squeak.

Sherlock drew his child more comfortably to his chest, John gave a small hiccup and buried his face in the tunics. "I didn't run away. I promised you I wouldn't run away."

"I know, little one. I knew it the minute you vanished, worry not." Sherlock rested his chin on the top of John's head, assuring himself the boy was safe in his arms. He gave a low, possessive growl, his Gorian nature seeping through. Tremors found their way through Sherlock's tunics, alerting him to the child's frozen temperature. He wrapped the robe tighter around John's slender body.

"I was so scared." John fought against the robe, wanting direct contact with his mentor. Sherlock leaned into the wall and held him like an infant. "Master, I have never been so scared."

"I know, I know. Let it die in the past, they will not bother you again." The deep voice promised. He made John sip more of the warm milk.

"Master, you didn't…I mean, they're still…"

"They are still alive." Sherlock rocked him gently. "Do not cast me in the light of murderer, little one."

"I meant no disrespect." The child said softly.

The master found himself able to resist the cold enough to pull off his own boots and stand John in them, he handed the boy his thermos. He carried the child off to a corner and checked him for injuries. A nasty bruise where Donavan had hit him was swelling and his already sprained ankle seemed to have expanded to twice its normal size. Sherlock ran his finger over where the collar had been. "Morons."

He tucked John's limbs into his robe and enfolded him completely after the milk was gone. He hoisted the boy into the air. "Can walk." His parcel spoke quietly.

"Don't care." Sherlock huffed back. He pulled the hood over the blond head and completely shield John from the outside cold. Sherlock sank slowly to ground with John pressed deep against his chest. The left boot popped off first, and Sherlock massaged circulation into the purpling foot. He repeated the same slow, massaging movements with the right. "Hands." He commanded.

Tentatively John poked out Sherlock's reed pipes slowly. "Don't need them to know you're coming anymore, Master." The childish mumble. Sherlock pulled a small plush teddy bear from his belt and pressed both items back into John's bundle.

"Hang on to them for me." Sherlock pulled out a small hand and began attending to it as John snuggled his bear fiercely. A satisfying pink color returned into each hand. John gave a small whimper.

"They took my saber." He cried softly. "I dunno where…"

"Shush." Sherlock said firmly. "I will get it back for you."

"I don't know where it is." John sniveled.

Sherlock leaned forward slowly, his teeth gently grazed the tiny ear of his padawan before pulling quickly away. A Gorian show of affection. "We will get it back." He paused. "And no one will take you from me, John. Not unless you wish me to leave."

"Then Qui Gon…"

"Agrees we should stay together." Sherlock finished gently. John nuzzled his face into Sherlock's chest. They stopped speaking shortly after. Sherlock continued to rock John until soft breathing told him the boy was sleeping soundly. His right hand clutched desperately to Sherlock's thumb in his sleep. Tenderly the elder ran his index finger over each tiny digit.

He never wanted John to feel such fear again.

He didn't understand how anyone could make such an innocent looking child feel such fear. He rose to his feet and tried to hide his trembling fury. He needed to get John back onto the ship and out of the cold. He wrapped him tighter.

"Where ya think you're going freak?" A cold voice hissed behind him. A green saber missed his back by inches.

"Next time do not announce yourself before you attack. Idiot." Sherlock rolled his eyes and pressed John closer to him. If the boy were to wake, there was no doubt his fear would be renewed. He balanced himself on his toes, a sign of defense. "Where is John's light saber?"

"You know we were hoping you'd chance a daring escape by yourself. It takes the blood of both the master and the padawan in order to sever the bond." Donavan leveled her saber.

"Listen to me, because you are too stupid to see what you are dealing with. That is Sith tech, even if the bond is severed the mental damage will be incomprehensible." Sherlock said harshly. "Look at him, Donavan. He is only a child, you will destroy him."

"No more than you have! He has become violent and reckless because of you!" She shrieked. "The council never should have let you out of that cell, you should have rot."

Sherlock felt John squirm in the bundle. He gently prodded the young mind back into sleep. Obedience was more easily accepted and wrapped around with a sleepy mind. "I was ten. Is that really meaningless to you?" Sherlock could fathom anything, except for the hate of a ten year old boy so scared he had pissed his own pants.

"You reached into our minds, you took away free will!" She was foaming at the mouth.

"You struck me before that." Sherlock said with deadly quiet. "The minute you saw I was branded you struck me."

"Have you shown my little boy your brand?" Her eyes were turning a sick black color.

"You have already destroyed your bond with your padawan." Sherlock deduced softly. "Poor girl." He closed his eyes angrily. These people were no better than the Sith they accused him of being. He pulled John closer to his chest, the last thing he needed was for them to put John through that kind of Hell. "Tell Anderson if he is going to sneak in behind me to use softer soled shoes." Sherlock leapt away from an impending blue light saber. Once again the young knight had to touch John's mind to push him back into the sleep, but the padawan was beginning to fight him.

"Give him over to me, Holmes." Anderson's attempt at sound firm came out in an intimidated snarl.

"Anderson don't talk out loud, you lower the IQ the whole street." Sherlock said coolly. He shifted John into the crook of his elbow and placed his hand over the soft brow. Stay asleep.

John squirmed in his arms, the hood fell from his eyes. An understanding passed between master and pupil, John nodded slowly and allowed the knight to push him back into sleep.

John didn't want to feel such fear again.

He wanted to feel safe in his master's arms.

"Once your bond with him is severed we will send you back to your former master." Donavan hissed.

"Then you would have wasted your time. He will kill you the minute you hand me over." Sherlock said steadily. Sherlock eyed the pair circling him with their light sabers aim at his throat. He didn't attempt to reach for his saber, he was right handed, and John was sleeping peacefully in his right elbow. A low growl was barely audibly from Sherlock's lips.

"Give him here." Anderson said softly. "We don't want to kill you, Holmes."

Much to Anderson surprised, Sherlock let a small relieved sigh. "Honestly brother, what is the point of bringing you if you insist on making me entertain idiots for an unbearable amount of time?" Sherlock shifted John so his face was buried in the knight's neck. A strong hand rested on Sherlock's shoulder.

"You are as deplorable at giving directions as Greg, young one." Qui Gon's voice smiled. John's eyes fluttered open at the tall master's voice, the upper half of his face peeked over his master's shoulder. The little boy's eyes shown.

"Master Qui Gon." He said with quiet joy. He pressed his forehead into Sherlock's neck. "Safe." He mumbled.

"Yes.' Qui Gon agreed gently. He gave Sherlock a small look for permission, before taking John from his arms. The little boy had an odd way of making anyone feel protective. John curled into a ball against Qui Gon's chest, but reached a hand out of his blanket for the knight, his bear secured in the other. Sherlock gave him a thin finger to grasp.

Mycroft disarmed Anderson swiftly and quietly. Donavan barely had time to block his disarming technic as it swung down on her wrist. She hissed violently as Sherlock activated his own light blue saber and gave it a small twirl. "Please attack me, give me a reason." He snarled.

John whimpered as Sherlock took his hand away, but was soothed immediately by Qui Gon's gently voice in his ear. Sherlock and Mycroft cornered Donavan.

"John's saber," Sherlock snarled, "where is it?"

"You don't deserve his saber, it is not yours." Donavan raved.

"Dull. Why do you think it was given to John?" He snapped. Sherlock circled around to her right, Mycroft her left. "Give it to me." His voice was like ice. "The only thing restraining my curse is the boy you stole from."

Donavan's eyes narrowed. "You are a Sith through and through aren't you, Sherlock?"

The young knight pulled his lips back in a vicious snarl, Mycroft glared at him until Sherlock remained where he was.

But not for Mycroft.

John was watching him closely.

Sherlock shook his head violently, he struggled against the rage that built in his ears as he noticed John's swelling eye. He felt anger towards Mycroft, who was shaking his head firmly in Sherlock's direction. And most importantly he felt jealousy that Qui Gon was able to calm John faster than he.

"Master?" John sensed a dark change in his master's aura.

Sherlock set his jaw firmly. He calmed himself with slow even breaths, John wiggled in Qui Gon's arms. Sherlock's aura began settling once more. He sank his teeth into his lip as dark energy circled his mind, he called on a corner of it. Small enough that John would never notice and forced it on Donavan's saber. It trembled in her hands violently, cracks appeared down the hilt as the dark pressure increased. Sherlock slowly touched it with his mind.

It exploded in a ball of dust.

Donavan shrieked.

Mycroft yelled.

Qui Gon cover John's head.

John yelped.

Sherlock released the particles into the Force, nearly collapsing from exhaustion in the process. A green and clear crystal clattered to the ground. He stumbled forward and shouldered the wall. It had been almost fifteen years since he had done that to save his master.

"Sith's spit." He said harshly. His head ached terribly, blood rushed from his face, turning him a blanched white. John pushed himself out of Qui Gon's and rushed to Sherlock's side. The small boy nearly tripped in his master's large boots.

"Master!" John grabbed Sherlock's hand, a move that by any other would have caused the young knight to recoil. Sherlock merely looked at the little child with a smirk. John punched him forcefully in the leg. "Idiot."

"Glad to see you are well again." The knight mumbled softly. He sank slowly down to the floor, his breathing was labored. Every muscle in his body was drained, concern flashed over John's face.

"My…my…" Donavan stuttered. "You son of a Sith's whore!" She lunged for Sherlock's throat, but was stopped by Mycroft's strong arm.

"Relax." Sherlock growled low. "I can bring it back. John's saber for yours."

Donavan made an odd strangled noise and squirmed viciously in Mycroft's restraining grasp. Mycroft murmured something in her ear, slowly the hysterical being calmed. She glared at Sherlock as if wanting to tear him to pieces. Mycroft gripped her bicep firmly and dragged her away from the younger man. Qui Gon followed closely behind, shoving Anderson along with him.

Sherlock pulled his padawan into his lap and buried his face in the soft hair. John gripped the back of Sherlock's tunics in a hugging fashion.

But it wasn't really a hug.

Sherlock didn't give hugs.

"I'm sorry." John whispered into Sherlock's strong chest. "I'm sorry I wasn't big enough to stop Anderson…"

"John if you continue to blame yourself for this, I will happily give you to Donavan." Sherlock stroked the tiny boy's hair tenderly. "They hurt _you_. Do not pretend otherwise."

"I could have stopped them if I were bigger…" John whimpered.

"Yes." Sherlock said shortly. "But you did manage to escape and stall them for an hour." Sherlock pulled his robes hood over John's eyes. The child squirmed. "You did well, little one."

John nuzzled Sherlock's palm, the need to be held was growing strong in the boy's chest. Sherlock scooped the padawan up, while being cautious of the sore ankle and shifted the child's weight slightly.

"Stop growing." He huffed crossly. John beamed up at him, Sherlock pulled him closer. "Irritable child."

"Master…" The boy sighed. "You're cold."

"I've been worse."

It was the wrong thing to say, and John froze. Sherlock exhaled and pulled the padawan's braid, John glared at him. Their eye's sparred fiercely, but the boy knew better than to hold it for too long. He bowed his head in respect, Sherlock caught the boy's chin and made him look at his master.

"Enough brooding, little one." Sherlock set the boy back on his feet, but did not release the young jaw. "Now tell me how you are feeling." The master commanded.

"Fine." A tug on the sleeve.

"John."

"My ankle is a little sore." Another tug.

"Insufferable brat."

"I don't really wanna stand." The small mumble. Sherlock made to pick him up, but John shook his head. "You're too tired, you're hurt." Sherlock lifted him up anyway. "Master, you are…"

Sherlock put his hand over the chattering mouth. "Shush." Sherlock's impudent padawan had the nerve to lick the palm of his master's hand.

Mycroft was stalking back as Sherlock positioned John so he was sitting in the crook his elbow, the boy buried his face in the elder man's shoulder. Mycroft held up Lestrade's old light saber with a tired expression. "Keep your end of the bargain."

Sherlock carefully passed John over to his brother with a small grunt. Mycroft shot him a confused look.

"Oh stop, you saw what it did to me before. This time I will drop." He snapped. Sherlock reached out into the Force and began pulling the particles back. The strain immediately gave him the urge to vomit, but the knight pushed through until all the pieces were back together. Mycroft shouted for Qui Gon as Sherlock gracefully sank into darkness.

The cold voice of his former master echoed in his ears.

_Good boy, good, good. But why in the world did you bring it back?_


	21. Chapter 21

"I don't think you should keep them apart like this."

"Master Jinn, I respect you as my elder, now respect me as the senior rank. A sick child is an easy thing to get attached to, and John is far from healthy." Mycroft said firmly.

Qui Gon frown lines deepened. "If you think they are not attached already you are mistaken, young one." Qui Gon stressed the last words. His experience was far vaster than that of a master who had only one padawan that had passed. "The boy is frightened and neither of us will calm him like Sherlock will."

Mycroft straightened himself in the co-pilot seat, his fingers ghosted over the ships controls. "My former master would have left me alone, frightened or no."

Qui Gon rested a steady hand on the young man's shoulders. "Dooku is not someone I recommend taking teaching lessons from. Trust me."

Both masters sat in a meditated silence for a short amount of time. Mycroft shifted uneasily under Qui Gon's watchful eye, the elder master gave a long sigh. "I am going to call Obi Wan. No telling what sort of trouble that young man has gotten himself into in my absence."

"Master Jinn." Mycroft spoke firmly, Qui Gon turned. "Please inform my brother I will give him half an hour to make sure his padawan has eaten. It is another seventeen hours, I do not want the child to starve."

Qui Gon bowed silently. Sherlock would not pleased, nor thankful. The time allowed was short and sympathetic.

And the poor knight had been prowling the ships corridors since he regained consciousness. He wanted his padawan, he wanted off the damn ship. Qui Gon found him sulking against a wall with his feet heavily bandaged. John still had his boots and robe.

Sherlock's ears pricked as he approached. "I want to see him. I'm his master, the boy is beyond frightened, can't you see what's going on?" He raised his voice.

"Your brother has been…kind enough to give you half a standard hour with the boy to make sure he is feed." Qui Gon said carefully. "The food is on the trolley outside his door, you eat something too."

Sherlock opened his mouth in angry protest. Qui Gon held up a silencing hand and pointed in the direction of John's room. The tall master gave a small nod and passed him an access card, before departing to call Obi Wan. Sherlock found his way down to John's room, maneuvering through many different halls, at last one with a trolley in front of it appeared. He grasped the plate of meat and potatoes, John's favorite, and opened the ships door.

John sat up immediately looking quite anxious and quite unrested. His face relaxed when he saw his master, but Sherlock scowled at his apprentice. "You should be sleeping."

John returned the small scowl. "I can't meditate in here. I can't, cause all I can think about…" His voice trailed off, his thought lost in the Force. Sherlock set the food down on the bedside drawer and wrapped a protective arm around the boy. His swelling eye looked terrible.

"I only have half an hour." He felt John leaning into his side. "I'm supposed to get you to eat, and then I shall leave."

"Will you, Master?" The boy sniffed. "Can't you stay?"

Sherlock set a plate of food in John's lap. "Eat."

"Not hungry." The boy said stubbornly, he curled into Sherlock's side. "Tired."

"Your fault."

"Not."

"Could have slept."

"Alone."

"Nightmares?"

"Course."

"About?"

"Needles."

Sherlock pulled the boy into his lap and ran his hands over the child's arms soothingly. He picked up a spoon full of potatoes and pressed against John's lips. The boy opened his mouth slowly, Sherlock splatted the spoonful on his nose. "Am I the type of person who would feed another?" He demanded with a chuckle.

John giggled fiercely and smeared the beef sauce on the elder's cheeks. More food went on their faces, than in the mouths. Eventually John sank his teeth into the meat hungrily, while balancing in Sherlock's lap. The knight ate his meat with much more dignity than that of his padawan. John tore it from the bone with his teeth.

Sherlock chewed a small mouth full while starring down at his apprentice. John was leaning back into his chest, completely unaware of the comfort he brought Sherlock. His master set aside his barely touched food and rested his chin on the blond head. He gave another small nip at John's ear. The child tore off another section of meat. He chewed thoughtfully.

"Master, is Frida going to be okay?"

Sherlock hesitated. He had seen the girl only once since they had left Hoth. Her eyes had been glazed over, and she didn't seem to comprehend anything. Sherlock shook his head. The boy deserved the truth. "No, little one. The machine has ripped apart both their minds."

"Oh." He put his meat down. Sherlock pulled him closer, the child frowned against his chest. "What would have happened to us?"

John whimpered when Sherlock ignored him. The elder truly did not know, but it would not be admitted. He hoisted John into his arms and stroked his back lightly. John curled into a tight ball, a small sigh escaped his lips.

"I only have ten minutes left." Sherlock said stoutly.

John nestled himself in the nape of the knight's neck. "Stay."

"Little one…"

"I won't sleep anyway…if you're not here." John scowled. "Don't tease me, Master, I'm very tired."

Sherlock lay back with John across his chest. He chuckled. "What makes you think I would, John?"

"Just a hunch." The boy mumbled. He fought with unconsciousness, if he slept his master would leave. John clutched hand fulls of Sherlock's tunics and blinked back tears. He was still quite afraid, his master sensed the fear residing in the boy aching stomach and soothed him softly. Sherlock motioned for him to give him his reed pipes. John pulled them out of his inner tunic, where he kept them in his pocket near his heart. He dropped them in his teacher's hand.

The melody was slow and sweet, it remained in the high notes, but would dip every seventh note. John yawned as the music calmed his body. Sherlock ceased playing to John's dismay, the boy felt himself being carried to the rooms door. Sherlock's hand fluttered over the controls professionally. There was a soft click of the lock.

Sherlock grinned, "Lestrade showed me. It should keep Mycroft out for another two hours." He lay both of them on the bed side to side. John rolled so he was facing his teacher. "You need to sleep, little one." Sherlock wiped some of the potatoes away with a smirk.

Foreheads pressed together, and John curled his hand in the fabric of Sherlock's sleeve. The elder carded his hand through John's soft hair. The boy allowed his eyes to close slowly, he felt the light touch of a hand on his back as it pulled him closer. John lay with his forehead pressed against his teachers and his knees in the older man's chest. Quite comfortable for the child and relaxing for the man.

John was safe.

oOo

Mycroft watched them closely.

A perfect window disguised as wall tiles, it was his most favorite invention.

The child could not get close enough to his brother as they slept on the bulky bed, Sherlock's arm was protectively drawn around the boy's middle, while John held onto the elder's bicep tightly. Mycroft could not subdue the feeling of anger in his mind.

The boy was supposed to be his.

Mycroft had observed the child since he had been placed at the temple. The master had taken especial interest in him when his former padawan, Anthea, had passed. John had looked trainable, his posture said future solider, even if his mouth said healer. The boy had been quiet and shy, an easily moldable child.

And Yoda had snatched the chance from under him without a second thought.

His brother was raising one of the most promising knights in the temple and was ruining him. The boy would see no one else if Sherlock was in the room, he followed him with huge, adoring eyes that were supposed to have been for Mycroft. Sherlock's head move forward, and John's brow met his.

Idiotic.

"Jealous is not becoming of a master Jedi." Qui Gon said gently. "Leave them be for another hour. The child is tired and refuses to sleep without his master."

"Then he deserves no sleep." Mycroft said curtly. "Attachment is dangerous, especially to…"

"To?"

Hesitation appeared over Mycroft's face. "Apologies." He bowed.

The elder master quirked an eyebrow. "Tell me."

Mycroft scowled. "To a Sith. The council will not acknowledge it, but Sherlock is not trusted amongst them. Why they ever choose to give John…"

"Because the council does trust him. And Lestrade's choice. Do not mistake the council's wishes for your own, young one. You are still two separate beings, no matter how high your rank. Sherlock was trusted the moment he offered to sacrifice himself for a Lestrade, a man he met once." Qui Gon said calmly, remembering how hard he had struggled to hold Greg down. The younger man had succeeded in breaking two of his fingers.

"They should never have trusted him." Mycroft mumbled. "If he truly wanted to escape he could have simply contacted help."

Qui Gon released a low breath. "You have never seen his back."

Silence.

"Nor Rica's arms."

More silence.

"Mycroft, your brother bares a brand. He could not go on certain planets even when he was Lestrade's padawan, or they would have brought him back to his Sith master. There was never any escape for that boy, no one was coming to the aid of a Sith's slave." Qui Gon hid his shudder by stuffing his arms in his sleeves. He remembered the day Gregory had found out.

"Dooku told me…"

"Meditate on your source, my friend. The first day you met Sherlock he insulted your former master, did he not? There was no love in his heart for that boy." Qui Gon voice was tired. "John is a comfort to him, and Sherlock is raising him well."

"I remember the first day I met him." Mycroft said slowly. "He was ten, only a little, gaunt thing. He followed Lestrade so closely, it was as if he were afraid his master would leave him. He never looked at anyone else, we weren't worthy of his attention." His voice grew farther away. "Dooku stopped Lestrade in the hall, and Sherlock looked so afraid of him. He kept telling Lestrade the white haired man would become a Sith someday."

Qui Gon rested a steady hand on the younger man's shoulders. "I pray his wrong."

Mycroft shrugged. "I thought he was a wretched little thing."

Qui Gon stared through the window and watched as Sherlock's arm moved slowly in his sleep. It involuntarily stroked the young boy's back, John's face appeared to be smiling. "What do you think of him now?"

"It is hard to hate him with John around." Mycroft said softly. "Our master was never a kind man, he never would have done what Sherlock does for John. I find myself believing Sherlock is…better."

Qui Gon gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Let them sleep. Fetch them in a few hours, Sherlock believes he is the only one Greg has taught his lock tricks."

"Very well."

oOo

He gave them three hours.

Anger registered across Sherlock's face as he saw the elder master leaning in the doorway with a smug expression. John had yet to sense him and slept on. Sherlock gave a low, possessive growl. Mycroft returned it.

"Your time is six times up." He hissed.

John stirred in Sherlock's arms, his little face was buried deep in the strong chest. Sherlock looked down at the tiny figure, he glared at his brother coldly. "He needs me to sleep."

"He has to learn eventually." Mycroft said coolly. "I highly doubt he will want you this much when he is in his teens."

"He will not be so frightened then." Sherlock countered. "He feels safe, don't be thick enough to think it is I who am attached." He prayed John had not hear his words, the child merely snuggled closer to him. His face softened.

"Clearly not." Mycroft said snidely.

"Shut up."

They glared at each other in silence. The only sound was John's slow breathing.

"Show me your back, and I will give you another two hours." Mycroft said suddenly. Qui Gon's words stuck with him.

Sherlock faltered. Slowly he glanced to John. He supposed the boy was worth reliving the past.

Barely, of course.

"Four, that memory as worth at least four."

Mycroft frowned. "Very well."

Sherlock carefully freed his arm from under John and gradually lifted the back of his shirt. Mycroft stooped low over him, his quick eyes made work of the old scars, the fresh scars, former burn welts, there even looked to be fresh bruises, but no brand. Sherlock dropped his shirt over his scarred back and said nothing.

"You spoke to Qui Gon." He accused softly.

"He told me I needed to acquire more data about you." Mycroft said evenly.

"I hope you've found enough." Sherlock snapped.

"I saw no brand." Mycroft said cautiously. He was surprised to see the younger man flinch.

"Do keep your voice down." He shot John a look, but the boy was blissful ignorant. "The deal was back, not brand." He hissed. "Go away, Mycroft."

"Show me." Mycroft said forcefully. "I can separate both of you now."

Sherlock glared daggers at his brother. "I can't. John is in the way, but if you must stick your fat, poodoo filled nose into it…" Sherlock waved his hand over the older man's face. "Go sleep on it."

oOo

Sherlock and his stupid dream visions.

Mycroft followed a younger, ten year old version of his brother and the boy's tall master down the hall. Sherlock's young stride was barely enough to keep with Lestrade's, he continuously tripped as he scrambled behind him. Lestrade glanced down as if remembering for the first time he had a padawan now. He chuckled. "Whatcha doing down there, Curly?"

Sherlock shot him a scowl. "Trying to keep up." He mumbled angrily.

"Come here then." Lestrade laughed as he pulled the boy in front of him. "Now you walk and I'll keep up with you, alright?"

Sherlock looked completely caught off guard. "I'm supposed to walk behind you. It's a sign of respect and…"

"Kid, just walk." Lestrade grinned mischievously. "I have to respect you too for this relationship to work. Think of it as my way of saying so." He prodded the boy gently with the back of his boot. "'Course it's also a lot easier for me to pick on ya from back here."

The boy tried not to giggle each time the boot pushed him lightly or there was a soft tug on his hair. He slowed his pace until he and his master walked side by side, Lestrade ruffled his hair affectionately. Sherlock shoved him playfully. "Knock it off, Master. I'm too old." He said without conviction.

"Too old?" The master demanded, pulling Sherlock into a headlock. "You're never too old to be picked on."

"Master!" The boy wiggled in his grip. "Don't! Stop!"

"Don't stop?" The master teased.

"Someone is coming, get off!" Sherlock pinched the skin of his leg. Lestrade couldn't leap away fast enough.

"Below the belt, Curly." He hissed. Sherlock stuck his tongue out.

A white haired man and a ginger one were approaching steadily. The ginger was standing behind the white haired one looking pompous. Sherlock recoiled at the sight of his former captor. Lestrade tugged his ear lightly.

"Lestrade." The master drawled out. Sherlock's eyes widened in horror as he shot behind Lestrade's leg. Lestrade cocked an eyebrow inquisitively, but said nothing. He reached behind him and offered his hand to the boy. Sherlock bit him.

"I am merely checking on your week's progress with the boy." Dooku said low. "And making sure you wish to remain with him."

"Well we've bonded, so no choice really." Despite the biting Lestrade carded his hand through Sherlock's hair softly. Sherlock gripped his master's pants leg silently, he glanced up at the older boy. The ginger kid snarled.

"Master," Sherlock mumbled, "may I be excused." The child didn't want to stay where he was not wanted.

Lestrade knelt in front of him, completely ignoring the older man's presence. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"The ginger kid hates me, and the white haired man is going to become a Sith lord someday." The boy said as if it were obvious. "And I'm hungry."

Dooku raised a hand ready to strike the boy full in the face. Lestrade reacted with the speed of a younger man and caught the wrist. He let a low snarl.

"How dare he?" The master hissed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're awful quick to anger for a regular Jedi. Plus you're clearly power crazy, look at the way your padawan walks, and you've taught him to judge others."

Lestrade shot the child a look that made him want to retreat into the corner.

His master was angry.

"You wretched little…" Dooku pulled against Lestrade's grasp, but the younger held firm.

"He is mine to discipline, not yours." The knight said forcefully. He shoved Dooku back and stood firmly between him and his padawan.

"See that he is punished." The white haired man snarled.

Lestrade looked down at Sherlock and sighed. "Come on, kid."

The knight had to guide the boy by the shoulders back to their quarters. As the door opened Sherlock sprang away from him. "You asked me what was wrong! You can't get mad at me for answering a question."

"Sherlock learn to think, would you? There is a time and a place for such accusations." Lestrade sat on the couch tiredly, his good mood gone. "Next time you believe someone will be a Sith tell me we'll discuss it later, alright?"

"I…"

"Go to our room, wait for me." He said paternally.

Sherlock had his own room, but his nightmares were so powerful, and Lestrade was called in so often they had simply moved a mattress in the knight's bedroom. Sherlock swallowed hard.

"Go." Lestrade pointed a finger. The boy scampered away.

The silver haired man ran his fingers over his face in exhaustion. He didn't blame Sherlock, it was Lestrade's job to teach him restraint and luckily Sherlock was a fast learner. They were still new to each other, but Sherlock clearly was not at fault for the misunderstanding. Lestrade loosened his belt and slid it off. It was going to be a taxing day, and he wanted to be comfortable.

He strode over to where Sherlock was waiting for him, the boy sat on Lestrade's bed. The knight blinked at the sight. Sherlock sat with his hands behind his back, his shirt tossed away, and his head bowed. The scars on his back were not quite scars yet and still boarded on cuts. Lestrade had never examined the back up close before.

"Sherlock." He choked, not understanding.

The boy turned slowly, noted the belt in his hand, and nodded. He knelt on the floor in front of the master and presented his back with a small sniffle. "'S okay, Master. I understand. You're kinder than Moriarty was, so I accept your punishment. I won't run away." He placed his palms on the ground, signaling he was ready for the lashes. "But you did ask what was wrong, so not too many, okay?"

Lestrade nearly fainted. He knelt next to the boy, Sherlock braced in anticipation, but instead of a firm wack, there was a soft hand.

"My God, Sherlock." Lestrade sounded oddly close to tears for a man about to punish someone. "What have they done to you?" Sherlock turned to look at him slowly. Lestrade reached forward slowly and cupped his cheek. "I was putting this away, kid. I could never hit you, understand?" Lestrade chucked the belt away from him with all his might. Sherlock whimpered.

"I was bad…kinda."

"There was a misunderstanding, Sherlock." Lestrade stroked his back slowly, avoiding the open cuts and bruises. "You were not bad."

Sherlock gaped at him. "I'm sorry, Master… I was looking at the norm for Siths, beginners mistake…"

"Come here." Lestrade pulled the child against him. They sat in silence for a long time. "Is there more?"

Sherlock squeezed his little eyes shut and nodded against the man's chest. "I don't want to…"

"Where?" Lestrade rubbed the base of his neck soothingly. "Please, tell me."

"Legs." Sherlock whispered. Lestrade gave a small tug on Sherlock pants, but the boy shied away from him. He shook his head fiercely, with tears in his eyes. "You mustn't look."

Lestrade was crying.

He didn't try to hide it.

Slowly the knight motioned for Sherlock to come back to him. The boy shook his head. "Do you trust me?" Lestrade asked with more dignity than most crying man.

"Yes." The soft answer.

"Please, Sherlock. Let me see."

"No! Please, Master! You'll have to take me back to him if you look! That's what always happened if I ran away. Healers saw m-my…" The child looked away.

Lestrade stood over him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Shhh."

Sherlock sobbed. "Don't look, please."

But Lestrade tugged the pants down at last, leaving Sherlock in only his undergarments. The knight let out a soft sob at the sight of the Sith crest and the initials J. M burned into the top of his right thigh. He gathered the boy against him, not caring if Sherlock bit him or told him off. He needed to hold the boy.

Sherlock let him.

"You won't take me back." He muttered. "Promise me, you won't."

"Sherlock…"

"The words, Master. Please."

"I will never, ever take you back to that sick man. I promise you."

Sherlock felt his pants being pulled back up. He rested his head against Lestrade's shoulder. "Thank you." He muttered.

Mycroft jolted awake, drenched in sweat.

_Damn it._


	22. Chapter 22

John woke up in the healer's bay.

A steady ache in his mind told him that Sherlock had kept him under the entire trip home. He groaned as the light filtered through his lashes. Rica was grinning at him.

"Welcome back." She said smoothly.

"Sherlock?" He murmured.

"Wrestling with Qui Gon about his feet, they were frostbitten to the core, but he didn't want to leave you."

John blushed. "He gave me his boots." He said quietly.

Rica ruffled his hair gently, she set a bowl of his soup in his lap. He accepted it gratefully, knowing it had been days since he had last eaten. He frowned. "How long…?"

"Three days." She said gently.

"Sherlock over did it." He grumbled.

"John, your body kept you asleep to heal." She explained lightly. "It was your gift."

"Oh." John helped himself to the soup. He slurped it noisily even after Rica gave him a dirty look. He grinned. "Can I see my master?"

She opened her mouth to reply as Sherlock burst through the door. He was waving his hands over his head in a dramatic fashion, worthy of an opera. "Ridiculous! They sent me to Tatooine and now they want me to up root to another planet like that." He clicked his fingers. "Stewjon is not exactly on good terms with me."

Mycroft followed him in with raised eyebrows. "It is an order, Sherlock. A direct…"

"Dull." Sherlock shoved John over to the side and sat next to him. The boy blinked at the elder master.

Mycroft pinched his nose. "Brother, please. You wished to follow Moran…"

"It is John's home world, there are laws about taking missions there." Sherlock snapped.

"Yes, we are aware of the laws, but they are being overlooked because you are best suited to follow…"

"Kissing my arse will do nothing for you. That thing I showed you three days ago is in effect on that planet, Mycroft." Sherlock said shortly.

"Then do not take your pants off, dear brother." Mycroft turned on his heel and stalked out. Sherlock pulled John against him, sloshing soup out of his bowl. John curled against his side thankfully. Rica smirked.

"Shut up." The knight hissed.

John continued to sip soup silently from the bowl, his stomach growled. Rica excused herself with a small nod, Sherlock stroked John's blond hair. John wrinkled his nose. "You could have been more polite, Master."

"Little one, spare me your lectures." Sherlock grumbled.

"Master, you were quite rude."

Sherlock pulled John against his chest as the boy finished his soup. John nestled the nape of his master's neck. The thought of moving to another planet was frightening and exciting to the young boy, especially since it was his home world. Sherlock tugged his ear. "Perhaps he deserved it."

"No one deserves rudeness, Master."

"You do, my little one." Sherlock tickled him under the armpits until the boy was near to wetting himself from laughter. The sound lit the room, Sherlock grinned at the tiny boy. John gripped onto his master's tunic. They both settled back into their relaxed positions, Sherlock rubbed his padawan's back gently.

"I thought I'd never see you again." The child mumbled. "I thought I was going to die, and I wouldn't get to say goodbye."

Sherlock pulled on the boy's padawan braid. He said nothing, there was nothing he could say. John was safe now and that was all that mattered. The knight sent soothing waves over their bond, John yawned.

"How do you…feel about going to your home world, little one?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"It's okay, Master. I mean there's nothing wrong with it." John snuggled him. "Could be interesting." He used Sherlock's favorite word. "When will we leave?"

"Soon as you're healed." Sherlock said lightly.

"I can go whenever, Master." The boy piped up.

"Go easy on yourself, John. You were just kidnaped."

"You'd have found me." John murmured and closed his eyes. "I was just childish."

"You are a child." Sherlock reminded him shortly. A snort came from John's nose as he glared up at his master. Sherlock adjusted their positions so John was once again being held like an infant. The padawan didn't struggle, only went limp in the hold.

"I'm alright now." He insisted. "I feel safe."

"You will never have to go through that again, little one." Sherlock ran his fingers through the blond hair and clutched a handful gently. John was starting to breathe deeper.

"You'll save me. I'm not scared of anyone anymore." John muttered into Sherlock's shirt. "On day I'll big enough to save myself, but 'til then I got you."

Sherlock carefully kissed the soft brow. "Don't be in a hurry to grow, little one."

"Yes, Master." A pause. "We have been together two months now, Master."

Sherlock was surprised by how much longer it had felt. "So we have, John. So we have."

The knight leaned forward and gently nipped the child's ear.

John smiled.

oOo

John's back pack was twice his size.

Sherlock glared at him until the little boy cocked his head. "What?"

"Did you feel the need to pack your entire bedroom, little one?" Sherlock asked rudely.

"I was making up for you lack of packing, my master." John said sweetly. "I noticed you only packed one thing of socks."

Sherlock gently wacked the boy upside the head. John growled at him, but curled his hand in the elder's pants leg all the same. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but carded his hand through the soft hair slowly. "What am I to do with you, John?"

The child's stomach growled. "Feed me?" The hopeful response.

"Brat." Sherlock pulled the hair and ran through their check list. Everything was in order, John was clinging tightly to his bear's arm and dragging it unconsciously behind him. Sherlock suppressed a smile as the boy bent over his pack and inspected all his things as his master was doing.

Two weeks had passed before Rica even consider letting them leave Coruscant.

And it was now John was officially half through to his next life day. Eight and a half.

It should be illegal for children to grow so quickly.

_I highly doubt he will want you this much when he is in his teens._

Sherlock highly doubted it as well, but for now, even at eight and a half, John acted as though he were starved for Sherlock's attention. The knight resisted the urge to pick the child up, John was so easy to hold and it wouldn't last forever. The boy raised his eyebrows at his master and squirmed uncomfortably.

"You're analyzing me again" The learner said stoutly.

The accused shrugged. "Perhaps. You snuck out to see Qui Gon last night." The Knight noticed scuffs on the boots, not previously there. John blushed.

"Kind of." He tugged on his sleeve. He stared at Sherlock challengingly. "You went to see Rica last night, anyway."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Medical supplies for you."

"For three hours?" John put his tiny boot on Sherlock's. "Were the medical supplies hiding from you, Master?"

"Was Qui Gon able to help you with your schooling grades?" Sherlock asked daringly.

John grinned up at him. "It was merely refreshing to talk of school and not how stupid the teachers were." John leaned against his leg softly, he didn't want a fight.

"And it was merely refreshing to have a conversation that didn't involve sass, little one." The urge to hold the boy was promptly ignored, he didn't comfort.

"With Rica talking? Surely you are mistaken, Master. She is almost as mastered as you in the art of sassing."

But he didn't push away.

Sherlock lifted his leg with his insufferable padawan attached, the child held on to his master as the elder walked towards his own pack. He knelt to pick it up, John detached himself from the knight, and Sherlock growled as a small nipping sensation appeared at his ear. His Gorian nature called upon, he looked down to see who was showing affection. John blushed.

"We are supposed to be father and son on this mission…so I thought I better start acting like a Gorian." The boy looked at his boots. "And you always bite my ear so…"

Sherlock carefully nipped the child's ear back and rose without a backward glance. John positively beamed and followed him towards the door. His back pack jingled nosily behind as caught up to the knight.

Sherlock hesitated. "Little one, there is one more thing."

John cast Sherlock a curious look.

"Your padawan braid." Sherlock knelt in front of him and gave it a small tug. "We need to cut it until after the mission."

John looked at him with pure terror. "Master, how will people know…? You can't! It's mine, it's the only way people know I'm not a youngling anymore!"

Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's. "Stop it. If you are not a youngling anymore do not act like it. On this mission we are not Jedi, John. Understand?"

John whimpered. "But…"

"Little one."

John buried his face in his shoulder. "But it shows I'm your padawan."

That hurt.

"And on this planet your papers will show you are my son." Sherlock gave his padawan's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Stop sulking, child. I have raised you better."

"Yes, Master." John whispered.

Sherlock at last let his craving rule him, and he hoisted the child into his arms. He would never understand why of all people he needed John the most. No one else came close to the little boy who buried his face deeper into his shoulder.

_Why?_

Sherlock pulled a small steel knife from his belt, a precious instrument he had be given from Lestrade on their first mission and swiftly cut the braid from behind the ear. John sobbed so hard it was more like Sherlock cut off one of his fingers instead of the braid. He could feel John's distress reaching across their bond.

_It took so long to grow._

John.

_My friends will think Sherlock didn't want me._

John, don't.

_Now people won't know I'm a padawan, and they'll want me to be theirs, but I have Sherlock, I want to be Sherlock's._

"Little one." Sherlock felt the boy cling to him tighter. "You are fine. Enough."

A small whimper.

"You are mine." Sherlock said possessively. "My padawan, my flatmate. Nothing will change that."

John refused to look at him, but wrapped his limbs around the elder tighter. Sherlock rubbed soothing circles at the base of his padawans neck until the boy calmed himself. He refused to let Sherlock put him down, the knight let out an irritated sigh. John managed to ignore him as he was rocked slowly.

After a while the breathing slowed to a tranquil pace, John squirmed in the strong grip. "'M okay." He muttered. Sherlock temporally tightened his arms, he placed the boy back on the ground carefully. John looked at the fallen braid. "Stupid." He grumbled.

Sherlock gave his shoulders a small squeeze and handed him his papers. John studied them closely, his eyes flickered to his name. The small child grinned slightly. "John Holmes?"

"Watson is a royal name on your planet." Sherlock said dispassionately. "Holmes is a peasant name, less likely to draw attention." He was secretly pleased the boy had smiled.

"Was I royal, Master?" John asked with awe.

"It would not be unreasonable to awesome you are the son of a duke." Sherlock carded his hand lightly through the blond hair. His fingers spiking the strands as they passed. John leaned into his touch.

"Will they recognize me?"

"Do you look the same as four years ago?" Sherlock asked snidely. John scowled as the older man stopped caressing his hair.

"I was only asking." He huffed.

"Asking stupid questions." Sherlock heaved his pack across his shoulders, John mimicked him. The boy gave him a crooked grin, which caused Sherlock to press the child into his leg. John nuzzled him affectionately.

They parted unhurriedly after exiting their quarters, John stayed closely to his master's side. The absences of his padawan's braid made him cling more desperately to Sherlock. His master gave him a small shove away, too much cling made the older man irritated. His padawan nodded understandingly and backed away from him.

They entered the hangar bay without saying anything. The loading door lowered gradually, allowing the two Jedi to enter. Sherlock stopped the padawan shortly as they stood in the doorway. He knelt before the boy and took his shoulder gently. "Little one, listen to me closely. This is a mission that is even more dangerous than Tatooine." He stared deep into the sky blue eyes. "These people care for law and order more than anything. Even the life of a child." His padawan flinched at the word "child". "You must swear to me that if I say run, you will do so."

John stared into the ocean blue eyes of his master and frowned. "I can't, Master."

"Then you cannot go with me." Sherlock said simply. "This world does not take well to off worlders, and I will not take you if I cannot trust you to obey me. You saw what they did last time, little one."

"Master, you have my loyalty and obedience, always." The boy swore. "But I find it difficult to promise you I will run away, I…"

"Little one, I do not care." Sherlock gave him a small shake. "Either you swear to this, or you don't come." He cupped the child's cheek. "You are still young, too young for this mission in my opinion."

John didn't hide the hurt in his eyes.

"However, you continue to surprise me, so I feel you deserve a chance."

John turned his head from his master's eyes. "Why? I don't want to leave you. What if you need me?"

"Little one." Sherlock said firmly. "Either swear to me or go find Mycroft."

_Please John, please just swear._

John chewed his lip. "I swear, Master." He said quietly, the urge to refuse was great. John looked into his master's mind eye and let him feel the distress. His master pressed his forehead against his, the boy's frown lines deepened. "Master, please don't make leave you."

Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear softly, but said nothing as he boarded the ship.

He would not share his latest nightmare with his padawan. He would assure the boy was safe, no matter the cost.

Even if his death became a reality.


	23. Chapter 23

They changed into civilian clothes on the ship.

Sherlock pulled his shaggy, draw string pants on, and a single outer tunic over his scarred back. He kicked the shoes away and pulled on the Jedi boots, flat shoes were exasperating and dull. John came into his room dressed as his master's miniature, aside from the boots, he refused shoes all together. Sherlock stared at the boy, whose papers claimed the child was his son. John was very clearly not his son.

The iris, the ears, the genetics.

The child titled his head and gave a cocky grin.

Perhaps.

He motioned for the child to come to him. The boy crossed the room swiftly and clutched his master's pants leg. The elder knelt before him and passed him his saber. He showed John how to hide it on his person. John fiddled with his pocket sized saber, until he grinned fiercely at it. He dropped it in his chest pocket next to the reed pipes. Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.

"It won't go on without my command. I had it on me the other day and…it went on…" John scowled. "Fixed it, though. Kriffing thing."

"Little one."

"Forgive me." The boy said without conviction.

They had worked on their back story for hours. John had been an accident. Sherlock had not known of John's existence until he turned eight and his mother passed, leaving custody to his Gorian father. John was a mutt, a mix between Stewjon and Gorian, fearing for her son, John's mother fled to Coruscant. He had been raised there until he moved in with Sherlock on Tatooine. John did not refer to Sherlock as "father" or "daddy" yet because they were still learning of each other.

Sherlock passed over his bag and bear, John gave Mako a quick kiss on the head. Sherlock ruffled his hair tenderly. The boy smiled up at him hopefully, they exited the ship dressed as refuges. The warm sea breeze kissed both their faces, John took a deep breath in. He savored it.

Sherlock hoisted the boy into his arms as they walked into the hangar bay. Proxy droids immediately stalked forward and scanned both Jedi thoroughly. John pulled the part of a frightened boy as he buried his face in Sherlock's neck. The elder glared at the proxy droids until they fled to a loading manager, who waved them on. He glared at Sherlock's dark hair, noting the off worlders challenging look. He held out his hand for both of their papers, Sherlock passed them over.

"Gorian?" The stocky, blond haired manger questioned heatedly. "What brings you this far into the galaxy?"

"The boy." Sherlock said shortly. John peeked at the manager with a shy smile, the manager returned it. The pup was clearly Stewjon and even if he was a mutt, the pup was still of their origin.

"Carry on." The papers were passed back to Sherlock.

"Thank you." Sherlock placed the papers back into his bag, John was gripping his neck tightly. They swiftly exited the hangar bay, John glanced around at the clear lakes, the lush grass, and the small towns with smiling people. He tugged on Sherlock's ear.

"Master, this is no more dangerous than Tatooine." The child said happily.

"Little one, as ever you see, but you do not observe. They do not like off worlders. Did you notice the tension between the manager and me?" Sherlock scoffed. Even now the locals cast Sherlock a dirty look, they were ignored. "And be careful what you say, John. I am your father here, remember?"

"Yes, sir." John said respectfully. He wiggled to be put down, to which Sherlock obliged. John raced ahead of his master, his bare feet against moved through the cool grass. He was laughing joyfully.

"John! Stay where I can see you!" The knight called paternally.

The boy continued to run through the grass, his tiny hands gripping at the blades as his master followed further behind. He kept his eyes trained on his padawan, they were headed to the Baker village. John ducked in a patch of long grass, Sherlock panicked as the boy fell from view. "John!"

The child popped back into sight, he looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry, sir." He looked anything but.

"Little one, come here." The knight commanded. He knelt as the child ran to him, he stopped the boy shortly. "You need to stay by me, John. We do not know where Moran is yet, nor who is working for him. And you have the observation of a bantha." Sherlock teased.

"Do not!" The boy said offended. He allowed Sherlock to take him by the shoulder and guide him into a small village. The buildings were tall and the markets smelt amazing. John's stomach growled. "Sherlock."

"Oh for Force sake." He pulled an energy bar from his bag and passed it to the little one. John munched on it happily.

"Oi! Off worlders!"

Sherlock turned in the direction of the voice with a bored expression. He quirked a cool eyebrow, but said nothing. John stopped to look at his master and then towards the man. The bald headed male gave them a hostile glare. "Where?"

"Gorian." Sherlock sighed pointing to himself. He laid a hand on John's head. "Mutt." The child wrinkled his nose.

"Keep to yourself now, you hear?" The man scowled.

"You are very loud with your words, so yes. We "hear"." Sherlock pulled John against him protectively as the man growled. Sherlock waved him away.

"Mas…Father, you should mind yourself." The boy said sternly.

"Not good?"

"Bit not good."

An awkward feeling passed over the knight as John referred to him as "Father", it had been agreed John would simply call him Sherlock. John was reading the map, his focus directed solely at that and not his early slip of the tongue.

"221B." John frowned, he glanced at several buildings with no luck. Sherlock watched the little boy walking around aimlessly, with a small chuckle he pointed out a large brown building with the letters 221B embroider on it. John nodded seriously as they approached the building.

Sherlock entered first, John's shyness immediately became apparent as he peeked around Sherlock's long legs. A kind looking old woman was smiling at them. "Sherlock, dear, you are late." She scowled affectionately.

"Forgive me, Madam Hudson. John insisted on playing in the grass." Sherlock actually sounded warm to another human. John felt jealousy welling in his chest.

The madam looked confuse. "Who is…? Ah." She said tenderly as John was pushed from behind Sherlock's leg. "Isn't he a bit young to be chasing an Acolyte?"

"Damn my age." John hissed. Sherlock wacked him lightly, John faltered as he realized how rude he had been to an elder. He bowed apologetically. "Sorry. I am so sorry." He looked up at Sherlock pleadingly. The understanding passed through their bond, and Sherlock picked the tired boy up.

"It's alright, young one. My comment was also rude." She said lightly.

"John, this is Lestrade's old caretaker." Sherlock said stiffly. He gave the boy a small squeeze, John leaned into his shoulder apologetically.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

"He is tired." Sherlock said softly. "Though you are correct, your comment was completely uncalled for." The madam nodded sympathetically, she showed them to their flat rapidly. Sherlock laid John on the couch as soon as they were through the door. John pulled out Mako and curled around him. Sherlock paid the madam for food and was immediately scowled. He shrugged uninterested and turned to his padawan. John ignored him.

"John."

Nothing.

"John."

Silence.

Sherlock sat on the end of the couch and shook the boy gently. John slid his eyes over to his master's form. "I'm sorry." He said again.

"Dull." Sherlock mumbled. "You've said it already."

"You didn't tell me there would be another Jedi here, Master."

"She is no Jedi, little one. She was a librarian and a caretaker of younglings." Sherlock said softly. "And she is meant to help me…"

"She is meant to watch me when you are away." John said angrily. "She is my caretaker now."

"John, there are things on this planet I do not need you involved in." Sherlock rose only to fling himself into a chair moments later.

"I can care for myself." The boy pouted. "This is my home, Master. I can help you find things and solve things. I can, I'm eight and a half now."

"You are still too young." The master replied sternly.

"Then why am I here?" The child grumbled.

Sherlock felt the spark of anger brew in his stomach. "I gave you the option to stay behind with Mycroft."

John disregarded him and squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to fight with his master, he didn't want Sherlock to be cross with him, but he wished the knight would trust him. John pulled Mako closer to his face, the knight was sighing heavily. "It is not as though I am going to abandon you in this flat, John. You will be with me a majority of the time as it was on Tatooine."

"Yes, Master."

"You are too young to face an Acolyte."

"Yes, Master."

"John, he would not hesitate to use you as in your dream."

John cringed. "Yes, Master."

"Little one…" Sherlock's voice trailed off. His anger was getting the better of him, not wanting to take it out on the small boy Sherlock went to the window and threw it open. He stepped onto the wooden ledge and clambered onto the roof. Being high up calmed him.

He let his long legs dangle over the side of the building, the breeze blew the loose clothes fabric around him. Sherlock scratched at his brand in irritation, the child would never understand the type of people the Acolytes were. Especially Moran, who specialized in torture.

The older boy had often been the first one to volunteer, eager to show Moriarty he was willing to beat the disobedient ones. He had broken Sherlock's leg once, which had enraged his former owner. He claimed Sherlock was too precious to be punished by anyone other than his master.

The curly haired knight bowed his head and fiddled with the pair of reed pipes he had nicked from John. He had contemplated showing John the memory of the day he received them, but it would have obviously made him cry.

It made Lestrade cry.

It made Rica cry.

It made him cry too.

"Demon." He muttered at them harshly. "Demon boy."

oOo

Moriarty was ordering him to talk to a whole village.

A whole village with woman and children his own age. Sherlock dug his heels in the dirt as his master dragged him forward with a bruising grip. The curly haired eight year old struggled in the Sith's hold. He tried to pry away the hand that held his wrist.

"Go away! I shan't do it!" He cried. "This is cruel! They've done nothing!"

"They owe me, my pet. They owe me much for my protection." Moriarty shoved him into the clearing of the village, the chiefton regarded him curiously.

"This is your weapon? A boy?"

Sherlock gaped at the gray haired man covered in odd tattoos. He shook his head fiercely, he couldn't run away today. He had tried it last week and the cuts were still fresh on his legs. He sat down forcefully and pouted. "No. You are the Sith master, figure out another way. This is idiotic."

Moriarty clouted him in the back of his head. "Do it. Or I shall use a crystal."

"Fine. You know I can't use the curse with my mind clouded." Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock, Master's getting angry."

"Master's getting dull." The boy growled.

Moriarty's black eyes clouded. He glanced around the thicket, his eyes rested on a young girl child. "Bring me my whip, Sherlock. If you are so eager for punishment."

Sherlock brushed the dirt of his knees dramatically, he stalked over to his owner's things and produced the thin whip. He presented it to his master and pulled off his black tunics. He offered his back willingly.

A loud crack whipped through the air and slashed through the skin on the little girl's face. The girl shrieked in pain, Sherlock cast Moriarty a wild look. The tiny boy lunged in front of the girl protectively. "Don't!" He shouted.

The whip came down on another child. Parents immediately shoved their children behind them in fear. Sherlock looked panicked.

"Don't! Stop it!" He shouted reaching for his master's arm. The Sith gazed at him coldly, Sherlock flinched fearfully. "Master, I'll do it. Don't hurt anyone else." He pleaded. "Please." He allowed Moriarty to beat him repeatedly in front of the gathering Gorian tribe. Sherlock never shed a tear, he took comfort in knowing the other children were safe.

"Now." Moriarty said coldly.

Sherlock glanced at the chiefton with some respect. He mumbled a small apology before forcing his curse upon them. His luring voice suggested they each put their most precious items before the Sith. Moriarty gripped his shoulder in a vice grip, Sherlock winced.

"Good boy." This Sith said pleased as the other Gorians began to obey. Some dropped precious stones, others placed down gold coins with a glazed expression. That was what a human with no free will looked like. Sherlock stifled a sob as the chiefton obeyed him and laid down a beautiful pair of reed pipes. The boy snatched them when his master wasn't looking.

The Sith's Acolytes began scooping the treasures up and presenting them to Moriarty. Sherlock scowled at their narrow mindedness. How could anyone willing serve that hundark?

Sherlock hid the pipes on him, Moriarty passed by him with a small sneer. His associates in tail behind him. "I am so proud of you, Sherlock. I may actually remember to feed you tonight." The Sith walked pass him without another word.

Sherlock stumbled up to the chiefton, proud of his victory and timidly held out the pipes. He gave a small smile.

And was smacked across the face.

"Demon." The elder hissed. "Demon boy." The tattooed man yanked the pipes from his small hands and flung it into a river. "May your ears never be nipped, may it be filled with sorrow, Demon. I foresee a deserved hard life for you. Few will love you."

The boy staggered and fell away from the elder with tears in his eyes. He didn't want to cry in front of the cruel elder, but a scowled at eight year old was not easily calmed. The child scrambled up.

He ran towards the river, vowing to never feel compassion for another, not affection, not love. He pulled the reed pipes from the mud and raised them above his head in remembrance.

"Demon." He hissed.

The present Sherlock opened his eyes in pain, dark engulfed him as he sighed angrily. Perhaps he should let John accompany more often, the boy was in need of stealth trai…

"Master?" A thin voice whispered.

Sherlock leaned over the roof and poked his head through the window. John had tears streaming down his cheeks, he looked as though someone had kicked his akk puppy. "I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep…a-and I-I…"

"Dream jumped." Sherlock mumbled. He bent down and heaved John onto the roof by the child's armpits. John threw himself into his master's arms the moment he was safe on the roof.

They said nothing.

Sherlock didn't want to speak.

John didn't know what to say.

Sherlock rocked him gently, the boy clung to him as though his life depended on it. Sherlock stroked his hair tenderly. The child nipped his ear, and Sherlock growled appreciatively. John's tears soaked his chest. "Everyday. I'm going to do that every day, Master." John nipped his ear again.

"Little one." Sherlock soothed.

"Why do you keep those, Master?" John wept.

"To remind me no matter what I do people will only see one thing." Sherlock said shortly.

"I will always see you as my master. Always. That cruel…"

"Why do you see it as a cruelty, little one? It simply reminds me what narrow minded people there are in the world. They are not worth my attention, not worth my care." Sherlock brought the boy in closer. "I am loved by few, because I only…care for few." Sherlock rested his chin on the blond head.

"I care for you, Master."

"I suppose, if I must, I care for you too, John." Sherlock teased. "But you really must learn better manners. I can't imagine where such atrocities came from."

The boy gave him a slow smile.

"Yes, Master."

Sherlock nipped the boy's ear softly.


	24. Chapter 24

John was being mercilessly teased for referring to a small fish as, "fishy".

Sherlock had found a lake suitable for public use and had taken John swimming. The little boy had been so excited he had forgotten he was a Jedi padawan, Sherlock Holmes's apprentice, and one of the most promising knights at the temple and had gleefully exclaimed "fishy!" upon seeing a fish swim pass his legs. Sherlock immediately snickered.

"Shut up." The boy snapped. "I'm eight."

"And a half." The master chuckled. "Forgive me, little one. Fishy had been deleted from my vocabulary list since I was two."

"Mast…Sherlock, the word kindness has been deleted from your vocabulary since you were in the womb." His padawan grumbled. "Please, Father." The boy said mockingly.

"Don't." Sherlock tugged his ear. He lowered his voice. "I would never want the misfortune of being your father, brat."

John snorted. "Forgive me, Master, but the misfortune would be mine. Imagine the three hours you take for yourself with an infant. What would happen then?"

"Your mother would be of some service."

John mauled it over. "There is no woman alive who would put up with you, old one."

"Then it is safe to assume your mother would have left with you. We would have never known each other." Sherlock nipped his ear lightly. The sun was setting over the lake and parents were calling in their children. Sherlock allowed John to run into the water and splash around like a manic. John giggled fiercely as he dove out farther.

Sherlock kicked his boots away from him, it had been a productive day. His homeless network was beginning to take form, he had met an associate of Moran's, and most importantly John had enthralled about being able to join him. The boy dove under the dark water only to spring back moments later with a bobber fish in his hand. He waved.

"Sherlock!"

The knight rolled his eyes, his little one pouted heavily.

_Please, Master._

_Play with your fishy, John._

A small pause.

_You asked for it._

"Daddy!" John called in his young voice, making him sound six instead of eight. "Daddy, come play!"

Sherlock growled at the padawan, but the boy merely waved harder. He was beginning to attract looks, not that they bothered him, but it was still unwanted attention. He sighed and shed his tunics. John frowned as most of the females on the beach stopped to stare at his master.

Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to call for him.

Sherlock paid little attention to the swooning women, he sulked angrily into the water, and swam to his padawan. John grinned at him. "'Lo."

Sherlock gave him no greeting, he simply dunked the blond head beneath the water. He held John firmly as he thrashed. John swung a Force filled kick at his shin, Sherlock hissed and dragged the boy under. Both Jedi tussled aggressively beneath the water surface, but they were laughed fiercely.

Sherlock allowed John to briefly come up for air, before yanking him back down again. John ended up wrapped tightly around Sherlock's neck as they both surfaced. The older man stopped beaming the moment he was in viewpoint of the beach. John continued to giggle against his teacher's scarred chest. Sherlock shook his head, to the untrained eye he seemed bored.

But John knew he was laughing.

John clung to Sherlock as they swam to shore, the evening had depleted the boy's energy reserves. Sherlock managed to pull his boots back on with the boy attached to his neck, but was forced to ignore his tunics. He picked both his and John's up and stuffed them into a bag. John nipped his ear lightly as they headed towards home.

"Thank you for letting me come today, Master." John whispered contently.

Sherlock silently pressed their foreheads together.

Something was clearly troubling the elder man. He was being uncharacteristically silent, John bite him rather hard on the ear. Sherlock cringed.

"Tomorrow. Tomorrow, little one, I need you to stay at the flat."

"Why?" The child whined. Sherlock said nothing. No snide comment, no reassurance, nothing. John wrapped his arms tighter around his neck. "Please, Master?"

"Did I stutter, little one?" Sherlock said firmly. "You will stay in the flat tomorrow."

"I'll follow you!" The boy threatened. "I'm your pa…" A crowd of people walking home began passing them. John growled in irritation. "I'm yours. Qui Gon said you used to follow…Grandpa Lestrade."

Sherlock set his jaw firmly. "I was older than you."

"By two years!" The boy squirmed. "I can help, please!"

Sherlock flung the door open to 221B, he glared down at his padawan. There was a defiant glare in the young boy's eyes, he would not be left out of the action. Sherlock sighed. "I need you to accept my answer." He stated knowingly.

"No. Please, sir. I can help. You know I can." He nuzzled Sherlock's neck affectionately.

"I have been informed that Moran will be in the plaza tomorrow evening." Sherlock said softly. "I will be going there alone, you will be here. Even if I have to tie you down, little one." Sherlock felt the boy tense. "I will take you again on my homeless network run tomorrow."

Sherlock heard a light growl, but the boy was nodding. Much as the boy wanted to be defiant, he did not want to fight. "Yes, Master."

Sherlock wasn't naïve enough to believe that the boy had given in. But he also did not want a fight, he set the boy down and carded his hand through the child's damp hair. John's mind was wondering, as they ascended the stairs. Sherlock tugged his ear.

"I meant it, little one."

"Of course, Master." The sweet reply.

oOo

Sherlock remained hidden in the back of the crowd.

A great festival had formed in front of the Stewjon palace, children were running around, adults were chatting happily, the food was to die for, and yet Sherlock would have rather been at the flat with John. He sighed as he leaned against a strong post, many people glanced at his dark, unruly hair and scowled. He shrugged.

A girl was strolling pass with a plate of chocolate covered pastries that would have had John begging him for them. Sherlock scrunched his brow together.

_Why would Moran be here?_

He looked down at his bare feet as palace guards strolled pass can cast him snide looks. He rolled his ocean blue eyes. A band of thugs, who were far too good for anyone else. They knocked over a small boy as they stalked pass. He broke into sobs, Sherlock cocked an eyebrow as no one came to the child's aid.

The small blond boy, no more than four, tottered up to him with a small pout. He looked so much like John, Sherlock instinctively knelt. The boy began to cry harder.

"Can you help?" He whimpered.

Sherlock tried to snuff his scowl. "How?" He asked shortly.

"I-I am l-lost." The boy's voice wavered as crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks. He gazed up at Sherlock fearfully. Sherlock gazed the boy over quickly, he noted the torn sleeve, muddy back side. The child had asked for help before, but had been turned down.

Rudely.

Sherlock glanced sideways and slowly motioned for the tot to come to him. The hopeful look that spread across his face was too much like John's. Sherlock hoisted to boy into the air and carefully held him in the crook of his elbow. He held the toddler above his head carefully. "Where?" He kept his voice short.

The boy stopped crying as he was set above the crowd. He glanced around rapidly and gave a small squeal. He pointed off to Sherlock's right. "Mummy!" He gave a loud, childish roar.

A beautiful blond woman sprinted through the crowd as Sherlock set the boy down. The mother slid on her knees as her son ran to hug her. She pulled him in close, her white shirt became stained with tears. "Owen. My Owen, don't you ever run away from me again." She stroked his hair lovingly. Sherlock turned to leave, the last thing he needed was a woman screaming he kidnapped her child.

"Wait!" The little boy, Owen, ran to him. Arms were thrown around his leg gratefully, causing Sherlock to be taken aback. The woman gaped at her son as he thanked the young Jedi and ran swiftly back to her.

"You helped him?" She asked awed. "You don't even know him."

"I have a pup." He said easily. "He's eight, runs away from me all the time as well."

"Do not." John huffed offended as he licked chocolate from his fingers. The woman smiled warmly, before taking Owen's hand and walking off.

"Not now, little…" Sherlock grabbed his padawan by the back of the collar and shook him. "John." He snapped.

"Sherlock." John snapped back.

"I told you to stay with Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock's voice was enraged.

"I am with Mrs. Hudson." John said smartly. "She brought me to see the new prince. Wasn't my fault you didn't ask what we were doing today." John gave him a cheeky grin. "Come on, Sherlock. Aren't you a little impressed?"

"You-I…grounded." He finished, dropping the boy back onto the warm ground.

"Why?" The child whined.

He was slight impressed. The boy had weaseled his way into the plaza and had obeyed all his master's orders. Sherlock sighed.

"That was nice of you." John changed the subject quickly. "With that kid, I mean."

"Little one, do not think I am foolish enough to fall for that." Sherlock said sternly. "You deliberately disob…"

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson smacked him little in the back of the head. "You are ruining the festivities. Let John enjoy himself, there is no dark being here. Only the king's long lost son come home."

"His long lost bastard son." Sherlock scratched his head heatedly.

"Yes, well…his legitimate son was killed. By Jedi, it's rumored."

John tugged on Sherlock's pant leg. "Is that true, sir?"

Sherlock carded his hand through the boy's soft blond hair. "I hardly glanced at the history, John. I only heard some fisherman mumbling about a bastard as an…ow!"

Mrs. Hudson wacked him again. "Language, please."

Sherlock audibly hissed at her, she raised a hand mockingly. He scooped John up and held him as a shield in front of his face. Mrs. Hudson laughed warmly as the child flinched dramatically. Much to the youngster's dismay Sherlock set him back on the ground.

Sherlock was not an affectionate man in public.

John had to settle for holding onto his pant leg silently.

"Sherlock," he gave a small tug, "am I really grounded?"

"Yes."

"Balls."

Sherlock grinned down at his padawan wolfishly. The boy quirked a questioning eyebrow, which caused the knight tug his ear lightly. Mrs. Hudson stood beside them and smiled. They had their own way of speaking to each other.

"If you you'll excuse me boys, it doesn't look like I'll be needed." She dismissed herself with a slight nod, Sherlock glared at his padawan. John shrugged.

"I wanted to come, but I didn't want to argue, sir." John said timidly. "If there had been any real danger I would have left, Sherlock. Honest." He peeked up at his master.

"Little one-" Trumpets blared through the evening, loudly announcing the king. Sherlock frowned. "We will discuss later. Be thankful I am not sending you home this moment."

"Yes, Master." John said miserably.

Sherlock nudged him impatiently, the boy sank further into misery as he realized his mistake. Anxiousness filled his chest as found himself believing he should have stayed with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock watched the tiny figure silently.

The king of the Stewjons strolled out onto the balcony waving gracefully. His muscular form and short, croppy blond hair made him seem intimidating to say the least. His lips were drawn into an almost forced smile that was fiercely ignored by his people as they cheered loudly. John tried to stand on his tip toes, but even then his short stature prevented him from seeing his king. He sighed, it was a truly awful day.

Sherlock frowned as the boy slumped forward in defeat. John trained his eyes on the ground, not even bothering to ask Sherlock for help. The knight leaned over and sat the boy on his shoulder as he rose back into standing position. John squealed as he sat high above all.

Sherlock said nothing as he balanced the boy carefully. John gave him a happy glance. Slowly he mouthed the words, "Forgiven?"

_The moment the deed was over._

"Thank you." John said softly over the roar of the crowd, Sherlock merely tightened his grip. The child smiled at the man he held in highest respects. John rested his forearm playfully on his master's head and cheered with crowd. A faint chuckling sound could barely be heard above the roar as the king introduced the new prince.

"Good people!" He shouted. "In honor of the fourth anniversary of my son's death, gods rest his soul, I am pleased to introduce my son, the new heir to the throne, Sebastian Moran Watson!"

Sherlock blanched as the crowed jeered with enthusiasm. He pulled John closer as the crowd sheered the name "Watson!" repeatedly. John clung to Sherlock's neck desperately.

"That's…"

"I know." Sherlock snarled.

John trembled as his nightmare flashed over his mind's eye, he closed the non-existent gap between himself and the knight. Sherlock shuddered with fury as one of his former torturers waved shyly over the balcony. His rage was barely contained at the thought of him sharing John's name, his nose, his careful smile, and his eyes.

They were clearly…

"Master, his eyes are blue." John whispered in horror.

"A trick of the dark side, little one." Sherlock hissed as he saw what really was. A tormentor waving boredly to a crowd of fools. "Feel, don't look." The knight wished he had kept silent as John's body went livid with terror. His nightmares had become real.

"His last name…Master, I don't…" John felt himself being pressed against his master solid form.

"You shouldn't have come today." The knight wasn't helping.

"Are we…?"

Sherlock tucked his chin over the blond head protectively as mumbled, "Yes".

They were clearly half-brothers.


	25. Chapter 25

John couldn't sleep.

He curled deeper into his covers until only the tip of his head poked through the top. Tight fists wrapped themselves the sheets as he refused to call for Sherlock. He was eight and a half.

A half.

Too old to be crying out for his master. Too old for tuck-ins really, but he didn't want to deprive Sherlock of that time together. He pulled his bear against his chest and whimpered. He was the relative of a Dark Acolyte, which meant he could turn dark as well.

Kriff.

He nuzzled his bear fiercely.

The covers were being peeled away from his head, Sherlock was rubbing John's stomach softly as he uncurled the boy from his bear. Sherlock stroked his hair tenderly.

"You are not good enough to shield from me yet, little one." He said gently. The distress, fear, and pity had been felt tenfold through their bond. The master knelt by the bed side and slowly pressed their foreheads together. "You won't turn dark." He murmured.

"Master, you don't know…" John grasped for his teacher's hand.

"Yes. I do." Sherlock stroked the blond hair tenderly. He ran his fingers over the soft hand, slowly comforting the boy. "And next time I say stay at the flat…"

"I'll stay in flat, Master." John whispered. "Did you know?"

"Not right away, little one, no." Sherlock regarded him slowly. "I have deleted most of my past, your and Moran's traits did not add up until it was too late."

"Why did the Force make him look so much like me?" John whispered as his grip on his teacher's hand tightened. "Why me?"

"Because you were…" Sherlock frowned. "Come here."

John crawled into his arms, Sherlock hoisted him into the air carefully. He opened the glass door that led into the yard of 221B, he held on to his padawan tightly as he made his way across the cool grass. The sea breeze blew both their hair. John shivered.

"Stay." Sherlock said shortly as he trotted back to the flat. John dangled his legs off the cliff that over looked the "king's" sea. He watched as a gunderr bird dove into the water, breaking the surface that had previously been reflecting two bright moons. It resurfaced with a fish trapped between its point beak. John squirmed.

His sleeping robe (Sherlock's regular robe) was being tossed over the slender shoulders and a plush toy was being passed down to him. John held onto it gratefully. His master sat next to him, John leaned against his strong arm. "I would have been alright by myself."

Sherlock shrugged. "Doubtful."

"Would have." John snuggled closer to him. They sat in silence until John remembered his unanswered question. "Why did he look like me?" He repeated.

Sherlock hesitated, his previous conversation with his brother had confirmed his concerns and prevented him from telling the boy. Sherlock chewed his lip, the council did not want the boy to know about his royalty. The master pulled the little child into his lap, he stroked the boy's back tenderly.

"Master?" John whimpered softly.

Sherlock sighed. "Deduce, little one. What is your last name?"

"Holmes." The boy sounded like he was smiling.

"Your real one, hundark." Sherlock flicked him.

"Watson."

"And we changed it because…" He said impatiently. Honestly sometimes he doubted John ever picked up on his deduction skills.

"It is a…" John paled. He crushed himself against Sherlock's chest. "No, no, no, no."

"Little one." Sherlock said gently. He rocked the child carefully, technically no rules had been broken. He hadn't told the boy anything. John, to Sherlock's great surprise, did not cry. He only leaned further into his master's hold. "I read the history." Sherlock mumbled. "You were loved by the people, quiet, shy, cute. A perfect heir. It was known right away you were Force sensitive."

The boy frowned. "I had a sister. Why couldn't she be the heir?"

"Men only." Sherlock said quietly. "It was told that the Jedi knew how powerful you were and attempted to have you taken, but your father caught on to their plot. The Jedi was said to have killed you to prevent an uprising."

"The truth?" John whispered.

"Your mother. She gave you to a Jedi scouting the area. Wanted him to take you away from here."

John settled against him. "I don't remember her. Whenever I try to picture my family I think of Rica, Qui Gon, Master Lestrade, Mikey, Mary, and…" His voice trailed off. His bright blue eyes peeked up at Sherlock questioningly.

"Attachment…" The old argument. John nudged him harshly in the ribs.

"Daddy." He whined. The older man tightened his grip so it was pressing against the young neck. John wiggled in the playful grip. "Let go! Le'me go!"

Sherlock nipped the child's ear before releasing the grip. He rested his lips on top of the soft head.

"Is this what it's like, Master?" John asked innocently. "Having a daddy?"

Sherlock falter. His father had sold him to Moriarty to gain information on Mycroft's location. His father never held him in the way that he now held John. Sherlock frowned. "I don't think so, John. I know this what it is like having a master." His thoughts went to Lestrade.

John nuzzled him. The heavy breathing of sleep came upon him moments later. Sherlock carried the young boy back into his room. John felt light in his arms, the knight made a mental note to add another meal to the padawan's diet. He laid the child on his bed. Even in sleep John rolled over to gently nip Sherlock's ear.

_Sentiment._

_Attachment._

_Lo-._

No, not that.

Not again.

oOo

He was so unbelievably, undeniably in trouble.

Sherlock had let him go off on his own.

What kind of adult let an eight year old convince him it was okay to run off on his own?

John squirmed in the big guard's grip as he was shaken violent. The man reeked of alcohol so fiercely that John gagged. The guard looked ready to throttle his little neck. He yanked John off the ground with a sharp tug. John snarled as their blue eyes met.

"What did you say to me, whelp?" The alcoholic guard hissed.

"I said you shouldn't hit a girl, kriffing moron." John snapped. "What are you deaf and stupid?" The young boy had stumbled across the idiot beating a girl no older then him because her father couldn't pay his taxes, this planet met rule breaking with harsh punishment, instead of kind understanding. John had thrown his fruit core at the back of the guard's head in a moment of rage.

"You should mind your tongue, child."

John scowled. "You repeal me." He seethed as the adult flung him onto the ground hard. The whip cracked just above his head, but the guard was far too drunk to swing correctly. John scrambled to his feet and put himself in front of the girl who had been forced to cling to a pole as her beating progressed.

"You," the guard sneered, "are the Gorian's pup, ain't ya?"

John held his chin out proudly.

"I could kill you and no one would care." He grinned.

"Well color me frightened." The boy mocked. "You can hardly hold your whip, poodoo brains."

_Master…_

_Busy!_

_Sorry, Master._

John began undoing the knots that held the girl in place. She gave him a pleading glance, he smiled gently. "'S okay. He's too drunk to hit straight."

The whip cracked above his head to prove his point. He grinned at the girl. "My name's John."

"S-Sarah." She squeaked.

"Nice to meet you, Sarah." He twisted off the last knot, the little girl ran from him the moment she was free. She flung herself into her father's arms. The old man frowned, his hair was be gray, he reminded the boy of Lestrade. He nodded his thanks towards the boy.

_Master._

_Life or death, John._

At least the whip found its mark, slicing deep into the young cheek. John screamed across their bond and aloud. The guard sneered. "And it ain't even electrified yet, brat."

"Kriff you." John snapped as he gripped his bleeding cheek. It hadn't really hurt that bad, just enough to catch him off guard. John grew queasy at the sight of his blood dripping to the floor.

How had Sherlock down ten of those with electricity?

"You're gonna die, puppy." The guard laughed.

A swift hand caught the drunk off guard and by the throat. A mess of dark hair and curls showed their back to John as a very angry looking Sherlock slammed the guard into a wall. Sherlock pulled his thin lips back into a viscous snarl.

"I do hope you are not speaking to my cub." Sherlock tightened his grip. "Because when you talk you kill brain cells, thanks to all the alcohol on your breath."

The guard's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. John clutched his cheek and giggled.

"Have you ever seen a Gorian father when his cub's been attack, drunkard?"

The guard shook his head.

"The putrid existence that is your life goes out." Sherlock pushed him further into the wall. "Now I'm going to turn around and if there is even the slightest scratch on my son's face, I encourage you to run."

Revenge was not the Jedi way, but Sherlock could not contain his anger at the sight of his padawan hurt. He was giving the drunk man an out, hopefully the dim being would take it. He released the throat and turned to John.

The guard ran.

"Come here." He said sternly.

John went to him slowly, nervously. His master knelt before him, his swift fingers danced over the wound. He produced medical supplies.

"Sherlock, could you fix the girl first? Please?" John stilled the elder's hands and pointed to Sarah. She was bleeding from a heavy gash in her arm. Sherlock threw John a dirty look. "Please? I'm okay, really."

Sherlock sighed heavily. He gave a small hand gesture to the girl who glanced to her father. The old man grimaced, but nodded. The girl walked towards the kneeling man and held out her arm. Sherlock made quick work with the disinfectant and was surprisingly gentle as he bandaged the thin arm. He gave her a packet of water. She managed to squeak out a small "thank you" and ran back to her father.

Sherlock tore open another packet with his teeth and passed it John. His padawan drank thirstily. Sherlock dabbed at his cheek thoroughly. "They're coming back." He said quietly.

"They?" John yelped.

"They. Three of them."

"Mas…Sherlock." John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Go with the old man and his daughter." Sherlock said firmly. "Keep them safe, John. I'm trusting you."

John nipped his master's ear lightly. "Yes, sir."

"Stay with them. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." John mumbled.

Sherlock nipped his ear before shoving him forward. "Go."

John stumbled towards the gathering crowd as three more guards approached the kneeling man. John stood firmly between the girl and father. The crowd observed the child, whispers about the dark haired man flew through the pack. John focused solely on his master. The dark haired man turned his head in time to receive a punch to the nose.

The three guards hooted with laughter.

"This guy gave a trained guard problems? This low life off worlder."

Sherlock subdued his padawan with a small hand gesture and grin.

Now it was self-defense. As his master had taught him long ago, wait a weaker attacker out. Let them attack, let them instigate, let them prove that they were going to hurt if not defended against, and then let them feel Hell. He took kicks to his ribs, face, arms. The knight sighed.

He launched himself at the largest guard and twisted his opponent's weight so he flew into his two companions. Sherlock dusted himself off with a bored sigh. None of his oppressors were getting up.

Perhaps he had over done it.

He turned to John, the crowd shied away from him.

Like he cared.

John ran to him as quickly as his little legs would carry him. Sherlock stooped so he could carry the child, John pitched himself at his master with a small giggle. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock's neck. "Master, you shouldn't have hit him so hard." But the padawan was laughing.

"He started it, little one. I was in fear of my life." Sherlock held the boy in the crook of his arm. John buried his face in his master's neck.

"Cool."

"T-thank you!" The old man called out. His daughter was being held in a similar fashion as John.

"Don't wait around from them to get up." Sherlock scowled. "Go home, get out." He flicked a dark gold coin at the man, worth at least double his taxes. "If they come back looking for trouble say your daughter was just attacked and that you could pay all along." Sherlock rolled his eyes as the man gaped. "Go!"

Sherlock carried John home, as the hid themselves behind 221B's door Sherlock pressed a swift kiss against John's temple. John smiled against the strong shoulders but said nothing.

There was nothing to be said.

oOo

Harriet could have killed the idiots.

Three of the palace's best guards laid strung out in the middle of the village plaza. Apparently it had only taken one blow from the mysterious stranger no one would describe. They simply referred to him as "Sherlock".

They said his pup screamed out and the next second the man had been there. Villagers whispered about how he had tried to warn the guard off him, how his pup had idolized him as he threw away the largest guard as though he were nothing. One of her men began to stir.

She nearly stomped back in unconsciousness.

"Tell me." She hissed.

"Dark hair." The guard sputtered. "Crazy blue eyes, Gorain, tall."

Harriet froze. "Scars?"

"He had a few on his back." The guard murmured. "We saw it when his shirt moved."

The young woman smirked. "Be thankful you were left a live. I have met that man before, he is an incredible specimen."

"Careful dear sister." A cold voice said behind her. "One may think you fancy this off worlder."

"I am not your sister, Moran." She said coldly. The people may have seen her little brother in his eyes, but he did not fool her. She was not blinded by the Force as they were, she was protected. "You will never replace Hamish."

"Hamish has passed, _frail_ one. Why can you not accept this?" His words were meant to be soft, but instead came out a harsh question.

"No man, not even a Jedi, should have the willpower to kill a four year old. Especially Hamish." She snapped. Her kid brother had the biggest blue eyes, so trusting. He had the Watson nose and their mother's laugh. He had never laughed for their father though. Father hated the thought of Hamish being so small and loyal. He would never have grown to be a solider king.

Moran merely shrugged. "Doesn't matter. The crime for assaulting a solider is forty lashes each. The boy threw a fruit core at Arnish."

"The child won't survive that. And the villagers claim it was self-defense, we will lose our support if we hurt them." Harriet turned away from the thug Sith. Her father's bastard.

"The people need to be shown we will punish those who disobey our laws." Moran leaned lazily against an old building.

"That is the Sith's way, not ours." Harriet growled. "We need the support of our people in order to function."

"As you command, my lady." He snorted.

"Idiot." She muttered as he walked away. Still, it would hurt to keep tabs on this "Sherlock" and his pup.


	26. Chapter 26

"There is nothing I can do!"

"Sherlock, we need more information. Jedi are not assassins, but perhaps with proof we can force the Watson's out…"

"Master, there is nothing we can do." Sherlock said shortly. "This planet is under the influence of the Sith, I cannot change that with evidence for the senate." The heated discussion had been going on for hours. Master Windu was not giving him an out.

There was a sigh from the other end of the hologram. "Can you take Moran prisoner?"

Sherlock hesitated. "Send Mycroft to collect John and perhaps." He said quietly. "But I doubt we can hold him for long…"

"Do you require any other assistance?" Windu asked shortly.

"No." Sherlock snapped. "They will only get in my way." He clicked off the comm with a short sigh, John would be angry with him. He clicked the comm back on. "Send Mycroft at the end of the week. My padawan is still useful for the next few days." Again it went off.

Sherlock ran a hand through his dark hair. The same nightmare had tormented him the night previously. He had died by his own hands, too much energy had been ripped from him. He cursed.

"Master?" John peeked into the small kitchen worriedly. "You okay?"

"Yes." Sherlock said harshly. "Go work on your lessons."

"I've finished." The small boy clicked his bare feet together nervously. He had felt fear across Sherlock's half of the bond. His master was never afraid.

"Where is Mrs. Hudson?"

The child scowled as his handler was mentioned. "Out."

Sherlock sighed and pushed himself away from the table, John scampered out of his way as his master shoved his way into the hall. John gaped at him. "Sure nothing's wrong?"

Sherlock wrestled with his emotions. Part of him wanted to make the most of his time with John, especially if it was his last. The other part wanted to disregard the child entirely, divorcing himself from all emotions. John seemed to sense the worse part of him and slumped against the wall.

The child mumbled something along the lines of going outside. Sherlock waved him away. The boy gave a pitiful "yes, Master" and darted away. Sherlock pressed hands under his chin.

The boy.

He didn't want to leave the boy. John wasn't ready to be without him, he wasn't ready to be without John. Even in death he was sure he'd still ache for his padawan, but John would have to continue, where Sherlock would have simply passed.

He punched through the wall with a cry of outrage. It wasn't fair to John. It wasn't fair to him.

Sherlock had gotten on fine without Lestrade. Although they had been together fifteen full years, and the boy was what kept him from going insane.

The boy.

Sherlock felt a small hand on his shoulder, he twisted around to see a very frightened John staring at him. The boy swallowed. "M-my toy is d-down…" His voice trailed away. Today he looked so small, so frail. John sniffled, then sneezed.

"Little one." Sherlock said with concern.

"Sick." He muttered. "Stupid. I took medicine for it. I'm fine."

A violent red was flushed deep into his cheeks, the child's neck was a sickly white, and as the elder pressed a hand to the smooth brow he felt the effects of a fever bursting through. He picked his padawan up carefully. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"Busy." The boy mumbled. "Good medical practice."

"How long?"

"Three days." The child was exhausted, he couldn't even properly cling to Sherlock. Three days had been the time that passed since John had saved Sarah. He lay limp in his master's arms.

_Three days?_

How had he not noticed?

John had been going to bed earlier, eating less, reluctant to train, was he really so blind? Sherlock laid his padawan on the couch and fetched him some water. John held the drink bowl in his hands, but didn't drink.

 _Sore throat_.

Sherlock held it for the little boy and pressed it insistently against his lips. John drank halfheartedly. "Hurts." He said hoarsely.

"Drink." Sherlock commanded.

John obeyed, trusting that it would make him better. Sherlock cradled the child's head as he drank, John nuzzled his palm when it was finished. Sherlock dropped the bowl aimlessly on the table. John whimpered as the physical connection broke. He watched Sherlock search the flat for a blanket.

"Master, you don't hafta… I mean if you'd rather…" John broke into a coughing fit, Sherlock gave him a pained look.

"Shut up, John. I want to be here." He found the blanket at last and placed it over top the shivering mass. John pulled the corners around himself gratefully. Sherlock frowned. "Do you want me here?"

"Ah ha." The boy muttered solemnly. He tugged Sherlock's sleeve. "You're not allowed to leave."

Sherlock smiled, he pulled John's slight form onto his chest and held him. John had snot running from his nose in the most unattractive fashion. Sherlock patted his boy's back as he started towards the restroom. A bath would do John good.

Sherlock pulled the tunic and pants away from the overheated boy, but left his trousers on. Sherlock removed his own outer dress and scooped the child up. His brand lay hidden beneath his breeches. Together they lay in a bath, John buried his head under the nape of his master's neck.

"I thought you were mad that I was sick." John mumbled. "I thought you were bored with me."

"Why-?"

"You didn't talk to me for the last two days, Master." The child coughed viscously against the strong chest.

"You know how I get." His master said angrily. "Don't be…"

"Forgive me." His padawan said swiftly. Sherlock submerged the lower half of John's body into the icy water. His boy whimpered.

"Shhh, you're okay. It helps…"

"With the fever." John giggled. "I know. I still want to become a healer, Master."

Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear softly. John squirmed in the elder's arms, he quieted shortly after. His sickness was lulling him into sleep. Sherlock pressed the little being closer to him, his padawan's fever became cooled by the water.  "You called me your cub out there, not your pup?"  John spoke what had been weighing on his mind for three days.

Sherlock hesitated.  "On my planet you would be called my cub.  It seemed fitting to say."

The wretched creature smiled whole-heartedly against his master's neck.

"Did you ever meet Moriarty again?" John asked, looking for a story.

"Of course I did. You don't think he'd let me go so easily, do you?" Sherlock reply shortly.

"What happened?"

"First time after that was when I was fourteen." Sherlock stroked John's back. "Lestrade and I were separated on the planet Kadavo, one of the slavers there recognized the brand and conntacted my owner via hologram."

John's nose wrinkled. "He isn't your…"

"Padawan, he is. All the paper work was legal, he paid my father, I was in all technicalities stolen by Lestrade, and my papers were never transferred. I am still…"

"You never told me you had a brand." The boy cut him off.

"All slaves bare their owner's brand, little one." Sherlock said quietly. He unconsciously pulled John closer. "Lestrade managed to get me out in time."

John felt himself being dragged out of tub, he continued to lean into his master's hold. Sherlock was putting him to bed, John reached to him. Sherlock scooted onto the mattress with his boy. "Tell me an adventure story." He yawned. "With you and Grandpa."

Lately John had been referring to Lestrade as "Grandpa" and not "Master". Somehow Sherlock doubted his master would have minded.

"Little one…"

"Did you ever save him? John asked eagerly. "I bet you did."

Sherlock had to promise to give him a dream vision before the little boy would even think of sleeping. John curled onto his chest as if refusing to let the older man leave. Sherlock's ear was nipped lightly as John fell into a welcomed sleep.

A time when he had save Lestrade, he had just the one.

oOo

Kriffing Dooku.

His plan, his kriffing plan, had back fired completely.

To be fair it had been Lestrade's fault, but Sherlock could not make himself angry at his master. The thick idiot had gotten wind of Dooku's plot to use Sherlock for bait for the Sith and even worse he had gotten wind of Sherlock's agreement. Sherlock was just about to be handed off to the slavers when Lestrade freed him, shoved him out of the quarters, and was taken prisoner himself.

The seventeen year old cursed violently.

The teen had managed to track the group of thugs without alerting them to his presences. He didn't tell Dooku of his plan, the man had already messed up enough in his life. Sherlock reached out to his master and was swiftly snubbed out. Sherlock scowled.

_Master._

_Go home._

_Not without you. This is my fault._

_You are damn right it's your fault. Go home, wait for me. Do not approach this planet, Curly._

_Master I won't let…_

_Sherlock, I can't escape if I'm worried about my brat of a padawan. Go home._

_When you're safe I will._

Sherlock shielded from his master uneasily. He didn't like to be cut off from the older man, but Lestrade would only pester him into insanity. Sherlock felt the probing of his shields as he landed his craft in a small thicket. Lestrade's mind broke into his.

_GO HOME!_

_You will have to force me, Master._ The simple reply.

_Do not put that in front of me, Sherlock. I am giving you a direct order._

_Master, Moriarty…_

_All the more reason for you to go. Sherlock in every legal sense you are still his. Please, kid. I am begging you to go home._

_You don't know, Master. You don't what he'll do to you._

_Listen to me, I don't care. I don't want him to…_

Sherlock watched from a hillside as Lestrade was pushed roughly out of the back of the pod. His arms were bound behind him and to Sherlock's dismay there was a collar being tightened around his neck. Lestrade's captors shoved him towards the base.

Sherlock's mind raced as he slid down the hillside, dirt clinging to his pant legs as he skimmed the earthy surface. Sherlock raced to the opening, praying protocol was the same as it had been seven years previous. He pounded on the side door. Another slave with dark brown eyes slid the panel opened. He glanced Sherlock up and down with a cold glance.

"Master didn't send anyone out this morning." He said in a monotone.

"Idiot lesser rank." Sherlock hissed. He flashed his brand to the older boy. "I am helping with the prisoner, they forgot to disarm him. But if you want to be the one to tell Ma…"

The door swung open with the boy stuttering apologies and flinching terribly. It hurt Sherlock to see the older boy tremble before him, he scowled. "You are lucky I do not have time to punish you." He swept pass him swiftly, his eyes sweeping for the direction his master's captors went. His movements were rapid.

He slid into the chamber unseen, to his horror the room was recognizable.

The punishment room.

He needed to get Lestrade out and quickly.

Quietly he ducked behind a control panel designed to monitor the slave's reactions. Lestrade was being strapped onto a barbwired grate, his shirt was torn from him, and the others began hooking wires up to him. Lestrade snorted. He gave a snarky comment about bed side manner and was struck hard across the face. Sherlock snuffed out a snarl.

Lestrade chuckled. "Well now I'm only giving you three stars."

_Master, please._

Sherlock waited until they finished securing thick chains around his wrists, hanging them over his head, his back still pressed into the barbwire. His master had the nerve to look completely indifferent, bored even. The last slave noticed and with a small smirk punched the older man in the stomach. Lestrade's back pressed into the jabs, at last the old man flinched. It took all of Sherlock's will power not to run to his elder. He waited until the last slave was gone.

"Master." He huffed when the captors were gone. "They could have hurt you for such comments."

"Speaking out of turn." Lestrade sighed. "Wonder where I learnt that from."

"You forget, Master. I was the impressionable one, you taught me."

"Impressionable my left nut." His master snorted. "If you ever followed anything I said the universe would surly collapse in shock. Come free your old man. I can't shake this ache in back."

Sherlock smiled until Lestrade informed how grounded he was. The teen shook his dark head as reached to undo the collar. A loud crack and the feeling of electricity shot through the young Jedi's hand. He recoiled as Lestrade strained in his bonds.

"Kid!"

"I'm okay!" Sherlock shook his hand. "Ray shields. Should have seen them. Stupid, stupid, stupid." He kicked over a small cart droid.

"Calm yourself, Curly." His master said sternly. "It's alright, go to the ship. I think I can…"

"Master, please. You have a Force inhibiter on, you can't free yourself." Sherlock sucked on his singed hand angrily. The elder raised his eyebrows.

"Do you doubt your master, brat?" He asked snidely.

Sherlock cocked his head. "Will my punishment increase if I answer truthfully, dearest Master?"

"Weeellllll I'd say you already in for the punishment of your life." A sing song voice proclaimed. "You've been very naughty, Sherlock. Very naughty indeed."

Sherlock's face crumpled as the voice grew louder and more joyful. He took several steps back, pressing his back deep into a wall. Instinctively he drew his hands behind his back and looked down. Lestrade blanched.

"Sherlock, run! Get back into the ship now!" He shouted, his wrist turned a violent red as he struggled against his bonds. Sherlock only cowered. "Please, kid. Remember, remember you've been mine for longer."

The teen glanced at him fearfully. He had been Moriarty's for six years, but Lestrade had him for seven years now. He took a deep breath and stumbled towards the controls. He glared into the brown eyes challengingly. "I am not leaving you."

"Sherlock so help me Force, leave!" His master shouted.

Sherlock ignored his mentor as he managed to bring down the ray shields. He could barely make out his name being screamed, when a hand came crashing down around his throat. The teen gasped as he was shoved deep into a wall, his owner's hand tightened around the young wind pipe.

"He's cute, Sherlock dear. I can see why you keep him around." The black eyed Sith threw Lestrade a seductive glance. The knight snarled at him heatedly. "Oh stop you. I need to discipline a run away." He glared back to Sherlock. "Dearest you have grown. Still wetting the bed at night? Or did I manage to beat that out of you?"

Sherlock struggled for breath. "Get off." He hissed.

"Oh, well you aren't being nice to your master are you?"

"Don't be stupid, I was trying to free him when you came- oof!" Pain bloomed in his stomach as the Sith punched him, Sherlock countered the attack by releasing air so as not to be winded. He glanced at Lestrade, who renewed his struggles. "'M okay, Teacher." He said softly.

Teacher, Sherlock enjoyed calling Lestrade that more than Master. It was less formal, as was referring to one's father as dad, and Sherlock liked it because it wasn't a term of ownership. Lestrade cast Moriarty a dark look, but remained silent. Begging wasn't going to help them.

"You stole from me, don't give me that rude look." Moriarty taunted as he released Sherlock. The teen slid gracelessly to the floor. The Sith sauntered over to Lestrade happily. "That was my property you took."

"For Force sake he was a little boy, not your kriffing play thing." Lestrade snarled.

"Everything on this planet is my kriffing play toy, _Master_ Jedi." Moriarty giggled. "And right now that includes you." He slow reached for a remote that sat on the control panel. Sherlock lunged and tackled his former master beneath him, but the Sith knocked him off with a small flick of the wrist. He collided with the wall next to his master.

"Sherlock, get up." He said firmly. The padawan glanced at the master painfully.

"Yes, Teacher." He staggered to his feet, Moriarty raised an impressed eyebrow.

"So he does obey someone."

Sherlock scowled, but his master cut him off. "Don't get used to it."

Moriarty fiddled with his remote. "So it seems I've found your leash." He glared at his slave. "I warned you once what happens when you feel affection for something, did I not?"

Sherlock snarled. "Buggar off, you boring sack of po…"

Moriarty pressed down on the remote and several volts of electricity pulsed through Lestrade's body. The elder man arched his back reflexively, but did not cry out. Sherlock made a move towards him, but was stilled by a sharp glance. Moriarty cocked an eyebrow.

"Apologize."

"Ignorant sod." Sherlock snapped.

A dial was twisted slightly and the button was pushed again. Lestrade let a loud small, pained exhale, his body thrashed, but he did not scream. Sherlock glared at Moriarty.

"Stop."

Twist. Pushed.

Lestrade threw his head back into the barbwire. Blood coursed down his back.

"Stop it, damn you!"

Twist. Pushed.

Drool began to course down the elder's chin. A small groan pushed itself through his lips.

"Damn it! Stop it!"

Twi-.

"Please!" Sherlock threw himself between his mentor and his owner, as though it would save Lestrade. "Please, I'm sorry. Don't hurt him anymore, please."

Moriarty frowned. "Ah. Now you've become boring." He sighed heavily, burdened by boredom. "You'd do anything to save him I suppose? Hmm? Tell me I'm wrong."

"Leave him alone, alright? He's dull anyway." Sherlock didn't look at the elder. "Not a hint of dark in him. You would have been bored to tears with how he handles things. Nowhere near worthy of the attention of a Sith lord."

Lestrade kicked his padawan stoutly in the buttocks. Sherlock hissed.

"Well, well, perhaps we should give him a taste of what Sith powers entail, hmmm?"

"Oh very good, Sherlock. I hope this is all part of your brill-." Lestrade threw his head back as body shook and shouted in pain. He sank his teeth into his lower lip, fresh tears coursed down his cheeks. His back began smoking as the flesh sizzled with electricity. "Kriff it, that hurt." He muttered. He glanced to Sherlock's white face. "I'm okay, kid. Really."

Sherlock didn't believe him for a second.

"No dark thoughts?" Moriarty tutted. "Liar, liar." He touched Lestrade's chest, Sherlock made a frantic movement towards him, but was stopped as shadows snatched his ankles. Moriarty giggled. "You never stayed around to learn that." The darkness ran up the Sith's hand and forced its way into Lestrade's heart. The elder man's body arched with a soft groan. He slumped forward. The shadows began pulling Sherlock to his knees, he struggled viscously as Lestrade's eyes turn a sick black, Moriarty grinned.

"Your friend has known a woman, very naughty indeed, but quite the pretty thing. Oh look Sherlock dear, there is even hatred in his heart. And reserved only for me, how sweet. What else, what else? No jealousy, no he is a good boy there. Oh he's quite angry at your disobedience, especially now."

"You're wrong." Lestrade croaked.

Moriarty twisted his hand, causing the older man to blink back tears. "What did you say?"

The Jedi chuckled. "I am not mad at my padawan. Never. I made a promise, didn't I, kid? I don't want him here, I'm disappointed that he didn't listen to me, but I will never be cross with my boy."

The Sith's eyes darkened. "Love is forbidden by your own council."

"Oh don't go preaching to me, wise arse. Your side forbids it too. Only things he was allowed to feel with you was loyalty and anger. Now why don't you go fuck off, before I get really pissed."

Swearing in the basic language was taboo. Sherlock gave a sharp into of breath as Lestrade winked at him. The hand shot away from the Jedi's chest as light engulfed the black. "And I don't love my padawan, he's a proper git." Lestrade crossed his fingers when the Sith turned to resnatch his remote. Sherlock grinned until the elder screamed in pain as more volts coursed through him.

"I do have one more thing to show you, dear Jedi. If you'd be so willing."

"Well given the choice- Ack poodoo!" He shouted at the end.

"Mas…" Moriarty raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's forming sentence. There was no denying the term "master" in this Hell was meant for Moriarty. "Teacher." Sherlock felt sick.

"Give him a taste, Sherlock. Just a taste of the power a Sith has over pesky padawans. Kneel at his feet." Moriarty grinned cruelly, knowing Lestrade would never accept it. The love they shared was evident, the Jedi would never accept the act of his padawan humbling himself.

"Don't you dare." He shot his padawan a challenging look. "We've discussed this, Curly. Don't even think-."

Another cry of pain pushed through the elder as the shocks became more aggressive. Sherlock shot Moriarty a look of hatred. "Teacher…"

"Don't...padawan…don't."

Moriarty ran his finger over the button menacingly, but Sherlock stilled the Sith as he dropped to his knees before Lestrade. "Arsehole. If anyone's a proper git it's you, Teacher. You got yourself kidnapped, we had a plan." The teen kowtowed, but instead of resting his forehead on the floor he nuzzled the elder's boots.

"You stupid Gorian, quit cuddling me. You've already bloody scented me enough."

"Up yours, you senile old fart."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed, slowly he approached the bickering pair, bracing to break them apart.

"Again with the old! I'm not that old, immature brat!"

"Teacher!"

"Vatican cameos!"

The teen twisted round and stabbed the Sith deep into the knee with his boot knife, as Lestrade kicked him fully in the chest. The black eyed man fell backwards with his former padawan lunging at him. The teen buried his knife into the Sith's chest until the hilt was the only thing sticking out. The proxy drone flickered and fade. The image of Moriarty's surprised face flashed across the droid and died.

Sherlock kicked it aside.

Lestrade gaped. "How did you know…?"

"He was too nice." Sherlock muttered. He undid his master's collar swiftly, the chains unclicked themselves the minute the elder was free. He pulled Sherlock against him, ignoring the squirm of protest. Lestrade nipped his ear lightly.

"Master, am I really grounded?"

"Yes."

"Balls."


	27. Chapter 27

John was playing in the dirt at Sherlock's feet.

The little boy was still getting over his sickness, but was well enough to insist upon staying with his master. Every now and then allowing himself the pleasure of leaning back into his teacher's leg, the boy sighed contently. The child gave a small giggle as Sherlock nudged him resolutely.

They were to be officially dismissed from the planet Stewjon in a matter of two days. The council had agreed to rethink their approach to the Sith's control of the planet, seeing as Moran now had diplomatic immunity and could not be brought into custody. Truthfully John was a bit upset to be leaving his home planet. People were just starting to grow used to them, Sarah's father had even gotten some villagers to be kinder to Sherlock.

Sarah was teasing him about his vertical…problem. He leaned into Sherlock's leg, but took the abuse with a diplomatic nod. Sherlock was talking with Sarah's father about supplies for the next two days. The elder man was telling him about a shop not too far out of the village. John tugged on Sherlock's pant leg, he was too tired for a walk out of town.

Sarah's father lifted the little boy into the air with a grin.

John didn't like it.

He didn't mind Sherlock holding him. In fact it was secretly encouraged.

But nobody else should have been allowed to pick him up. They were too rough, too possessive. Sherlock was light and careful, he never held on too tightly or pressed John into his chest until the child couldn't breathe. Sarah's father clung to him too snugly.

He didn't squirm because unlike Sherlock he wasn't rude, but he did throw his mentor a pleading look. Sherlock took his padawan from the old man.

"He is just getting over an illness." Sherlock said easily as he pulled the child close. John settled in the familiar embrace, he nestled into the nape of his master's neck. Sherlock stroked his back lightly as the old man turned to his daughter. He gave John's head a quick sniff.

"Sherlock…" The little one whined. Every now and then, especially after someone different held him, Sherlock would sniff him fiercely. The child couldn't understand what possessed the knight to snuffle him. Sherlock wiggled his nose over the boy's head.

"You haven't done your research as you said, little one." The master accused as he held John in the air by his armpits. He sniffed the child's stomach and gave a low growl. John giggled as the breath tickled him.

"Enlighten me." The child giggled again as Sherlock sniffed his neck.

"It is a Gorian trait." He murmured, allowing John to rest back in his mentor's arms. "It is a way of showing possession." When his padawan gave him a confused look the knight sighed heavily. "I am claiming you, John."

"Why?"

"You smell like me, you are my cub." His voice was low. "My nature does not like it when you smell of others." He tickled the child with his nose one last time. John smiled into his master's chest.

"Maybe you smell like me, Sherlock." He said softly.

"Your smell has not developed yet, brat." Sherlock growled into his ear. "You smell like me."

John nipped his ear lightly and began sniffing his master's neck. Sherlock growled approvingly.

John couldn't scent, he couldn't put his smell on others, he probably didn't even know what Sherlock truly smelt like. But the action appealed to his animalistic nature, in his own way, John was claiming Sherlock.

It gave him an odd feeling of warmth.

oOo

They didn't notice Sarah's father smiling in their direction as John tried tickling Sherlock with his nose. The dark haired off worlder held the pup an arm's length away and seemed trying to desperately hold in a laugh. That sort of love between a father and son was uncommon on their planet.

The king's own child had never taken to him. The toddler had always been attached to his mother's hip, while their daughter tried in vain for their father's attention.

That poor family.

Fathers on their planet were taught to be cruel.

They were to make soldiers, not friends with their sons.

But the child that was laughing so happily in the off worlder's arms had defended a girl he had never met. Had taken on an opponent twice his size. The child was a proper solider, but had been raised clearly with love.

The Gorian nipped his pup's ear.

The pup growled at him, which gave his father reason to chuckle. He flipped his pup over, so the child hung upside down. The father avoided kicking feet as his pup demanded to be righted, the Gorian tossed him into the air and caught him around the middle. The child giggled so fiercely it sent him into a strong fit of coughs, the Gorian immediately soothed the pup with his melodic voice. The pup leaned into the calming arms and sighed.

"They really call you Sherlock then?" Sarah's father asked kindly.

"Yes." The Gorian rocked his pup pacifyingly.

"Just seems like an insult, is all."

The off worlder scowled. "Clearly.

"Well it means "fair-haired."

The off worlder gave him a glare. "I am aware of what my name means, thanks. My brother and I were born out of wedlock, his name means "island". The elders abandoned him an island when he was born to deem if he was worthy to live or not. He was, unfortunately. Mine means fair-hair, my father's hair was black. It was an insult to him, claiming I was not his."

The pup peeked at his father curiously. It was obvious the boy had never heard the story before. The dark haired man gazed down at the boy thoughtfully, they exchanged a look. The pup frowned, but father smiled. The pup punched him in the chest.

"Who taught you such deplorable manners, little one?" The beautiful voce chuckled.

"You wouldn't know him, Sherlock. He's a proper git." The pup grinned at him cheekily.

The Gorian tugged on the pup's ear. "Brat."

"Yes, Father." The child giggled.

Why couldn't every pup have a father like that man?

oOo

Trumpets blasted through their peaceful evening.

John had been eating a cold sandwich and sitting Sherlock's lap. The child managed to convince his elder to eat something after practically attacking him with a sandwich. Sherlock munched noisily above him. John giggled.

Sherlock's ear immediately pricked in response to the blaring instruments. Frowning he carried John into the Sarah's apartment, her father came running down the stairs. "Into the street! Into the street." He ushered the Jedi into the open plaza. "Kneel, don't look up. Sherlock put John down, he'll have to do without you for a bit. When they say rise you two stay down, got it? Your off worlders, you have to wait for the princess to give you the say so."

Sherlock set John down, but eyed the sick child carefully. John rolled his eyes in a very Sherlock way. "I'm fine."

"John, it is the princess…" Sherlock's padawan looked confused. "Your sister."

The child froze, Sherlock nipped his ear comfortingly.

The Jedi knelt as a royal carriage approached, Sherlock made sure to keep his knee pressed against John's. The little boy held perfectly still, his sky blue eyes trained on the ground as heeled boots jumped from the carriage.

Boots?

John panicked as the Force came back to him with no data about the person in the boots. He couldn't sense anything to do with the person. He turned to Sherlock who remained perfectly calm. John poked his master's mind gently.

_Can you…?_

_No. Relax, little one. Focus on the others._

_Yes, Master._

"Rise." A female voice said amused. John watched his master wince slightly at the voice, John wanted to lean into his master leg. The female voice chuckled. "I am half tempted to leave you down there, Gorian."

Sherlock smirked slightly. "How dull."

John tried to peek at his would be sister when a coughing fit erupted from his chest. The child doubled over in pain as coughs racked through his body. He could sense Sherlock's desire to reach for him, but the knight stayed still. The female voice chuckled. "Off worlders may rise."

Sherlock immediately scooped John into his arms and stroked the child's back gently. John finished his violent hacking over Sherlock's shoulder. John whimpered into Sherlock's chest. "Ow."

"You're fine." Sherlock said roughly.

John stuck his tongue at the older man.

"You were fine enough to force me to drag you into town this morning." Sherlock was rocking his apprentice slowly.

"A Sith Lord couldn't force you to do anything, Father. There is too much stubbornness in you. Clearly you wanted me." John snorted.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The cold female voice said. John peeked at his sister curiously.

She had the same nose.

John wiggled until Sherlock glanced at him. John slid his eyes towards his sister carefully, the young woman was staring at him intently. John buried his face into Sherlock's chest, the princess narrowed her eyes.

"Has your pup ever been on this planet before?"

"No." Sherlock said easily. He glanced down at the boy. "At least I don't believe so. His mother told me had been raised on Coruscant for most of his life." His padawan nodded his confirmation.

The princess blinked at both men fiercely as John fiddled with his master's outer tunic.

 _Leave me alone._ He begged quietly. He couldn't remember much from his childhood, but he knew if anyone were to recognize him it would be Harriet.

"Daddy, I wanna go home." John whined quietly. Sherlock cast him a dark look as his padawan stooped to childish behavior. "Please, Father?" John faked a cough for good measure.

"John…"

"I have not dismissed you yet, off worlder. You will stay." She hissed.

"Or what? I get another ten lashes? Bored." He swept as much of a grand bow as he could and started to carry John away.

John looked pain. "She's the one that lashed you?"

"Mind on the present moment, little one." Sherlock scowled.

Loud boot steps approached the bickering pair of Jedi. Harriet stopped the knight with a cold look that John had only seen on his mother's face when she was angry. Sherlock sighed heavily. "What?"

"You are treading on my patience."

"Forgive me I still have the marks from your patience. I am eager not to duplicate the incident."

"Then you will do as I say." The young woman said forcefully.

Sherlock shrugged lazily. "My child is sick, I wish to take him home."

"Then you will hear what I have to say and be gone." The princess said coolly. Sherlock shifted John in his arms, the child shook his head as Harriet stared at him as though he were a priceless painting. John clutched at Sherlock's neck, the knight gently placed the boy back down onto the ground. John was forced to stand on his own two feet. He glared up at Sherlock.

_Master, please. She'll recognize me. Please, I just want…_

_Little one, she wants to see you because you like her brother. Not because you are. Don't be dull. You are fine._

_Master, you know as much of feelings as a mental handicapped-_

_Little one._

_Forgive me._

Sherlock carded his hand through the soft hair as Harriet glowered at the little boy. John jutted his chin out as his master's would have. Harriet frowned at the similarities between the Jedi, she nodded her dismissal. John gave a small sigh of relief and was immediately picked up by his master. He leaned his head on the strong shoulder.

"There is a mandatory meeting in the plaza tomorrow. I expect you to be there."

Sherlock gave a stiff bow. "Yes, my lady."

John bowed awkwardly in his master's arms.

They walked back to the flat in silence except for John's occasional cough. Instead of going in doors Sherlock pulled John into the open yard, they sat looking over the cliff. John breathed tiredly against the strong body of the knight.

"Master, will we participate in the event tomorrow?"

"I will." He nipped the boy's ear. "You will wait in the ship."

"I want to stay with you." John dangled his legs over the cliff. Sherlock began scenting the child, his nose ran behind the little boy's ears. John giggled.

"Master!" He gave Sherlock a gentle shove.

Sherlock growled and made John hold still as he sniffed the boy. John lifted his arm helpfully as the elder prodded him.

"The Great Knight Sherlock Holmes is just like an akk puppy!" John giggled happily.

Sherlock gave him a small shake. "And the most promising knight in the temple has been clinging to said puppy all day."

John grinned and snuggled into the warm embrace of the young knight.

"Yes, Master."

oOo

Harriet had followed them.

The boy, the little child with the careful eyes and the shy smile was so Hamish. He even had the nose! But he was so attached to the Gorian. He had so much love in his eyes whenever his father was present.

But it couldn't have been his father.

The little boy even had the small scar on the ear. Hamish's scar.

She watched them from her perch, thankfully they hadn't gone inside. The child was nestling deep into his father's embrace.

"Master, will we participate in the event tomorrow?"

_Master?_

**Master?**

The child was not the Gorian's son!

The boy was being told he would not attend the event in the plaza. Moran's crowning day. Harriet felt rage at the child being ordered. Her precious little brother must have been kidnapped by the Jedi and enslaved. The child threw his legs over the cliff as he was scented by the Gorian.

How dare the Gorian claim her brother as his own.

Hamish giggled as the scenting continued, he lifted his arms above his head and was immediately snatched into the air. He gave a great and true belly laugh, the Gorian swung him around swiftly. Hamish was thrown into the air and caught an inch above the ground. He gave a delighted squeal. "Master!"

"Padawan!" The elder chuckled. "Are feeling less useless?"

The child scowled. "I will forgive that comment, Master mine. I don't wish to hold a grudge against an old man such as you. Especially since your age may prevent you from being around much longer."

She thought the Gorian flinched. He pulled the child closer to him, Hamish settled easily back into his slaver's arms.

Clearly he was brainwashed and under the influence of the powerful Jedi.

She ignored the look of adoration in her little brother's eyes, she ignored the happy smile that lit his face, and she ignored the fact that Hamish looked healthy and safe.

Because she planned on stealing her brother back.

Tomorrow.


	28. Chapter 28

Sherlock stood in the back of the crowd once more with John at his side.

The knight's vision was still unclear. He died fighting Moran, but he didn't know where nor how. All he knew was he wanted as much time with his padawan as was allowed before he passed. John was holding his hand.

It felt odd.

Wrong.

Unnatural.

But it was for John.

As was everything.

Sherlock shifted uneasily as the boy chattered to him about Sarah and how pretty she looked in a sundress. Sherlock gave him a small nudge.

"Love is very much forbidden, my little one." Said the most feared Jedi at temple holding a little boy's hand.

John scowled. "That isn't fair. I love y…" He stopped and peeked at Sherlock. "Yaks. I love them, Father. Truly."

Sherlock tightened his palm around the small hand, John looked up at him shyly. Sherlock didn't hesitate to pick the boy up and set him on his hip. John lay his head on the elder's shoulder. "Did you love Grandpa?"

Sherlock nipped John's ear silently.

"Did you?"

"John…."

"Did you?" A more firm question.

Sherlock glared at his padawan. "We are not discussing this here."

The child huffed. "I may be silent if I were to get a chocolate pastry, Master mine." John said the last half of the quietly. Sherlock put his forehead against John's with a mischievous grin.

"I am not foolish enough to give you sugar before a four hour trip, padawan mine." Sherlock chuckled. John scowled into Sherlock's shoulder, his saber was pressing uncomfortably into his hip. He wiggled to be put down. His master set the boy gently onto the ground only to have his padawan retake his hand. Sherlock bit down a scowl.

If he wasn't dying the boy would be told off.

John leaned into his master's leg with a small sigh. They were missing his nap for this, and the boy was still sick. John pursed his lips as head ached, Sherlock sensed his padawan's discomfort across their bond. His long fingers made small, soothing circles at the base of his padawan neck, John gave a small mew at the sensation and buried his face in Sherlock's leg.

Sherlock's lips twitched up, but refused to give way to a smile.

John's biological family was smiling hugely, even John's biological father was smiling broadly. Sherlock frowned, the man looked far more excited than the last time Moran had been mentioned. Worry lines etched themselves deep in Sherlock's features.

_Why would a king be happy to have his bastard sitting on his throne?_

Sherlock glared at the royal family, his former tormentor took a stand in front of the crowd. The cheer "Watson!" rang out, and his padawan cringed.

Moran gave a small, shy wave. The people went berserk as it reminded them of their lost prince, Sherlock scowled at the imbeciles. John pressed deeper into his master's leg.

"My people, it gives me great pleasure to announce to you that on this day, a great justice shall be done!" The crowd roared at Moran's response. Sherlock heaved John into the air worriedly. "It is on this day that we bring to justice one of the Jedi who stole our prince!" Another loud jeer.

Sherlock backed away slowly, his movements practiced and calm so as not to draw attention. John buried his face in Sherlock's strong shoulder. Moran sought out the dark haired Gorian with an evil grin, Sherlock returned his glare fully. "Sherlock Holmes, you really ought to consider changing your name on these missions."

Sherlock pressed his mind into John's, the boy jumped in surprise as the overwhelming presence as his master invaded.

_Act surprised._

_Yes, Master._

Sherlock gave a shocked look as the crowd turned to him. He gave a shakey, almost frightened breath in. "My lord you mistake me for another." He called out with a petrified voice. "I am a refugee, a father. I am no Jedi."

Moran snarled from the balcony and leapt over the side gracefully. He landed with the balance of one practiced with the Force. The crowd parted before him with new found fear, Sherlock cradled John's head as the Acolyte took a menacing step forward. Sherlock swallowed in terror and retreated back until he bumped clumsily into a wall. The crowd seemed completely fooled with his charade. Slowly they began to recircle the Gorian and the pup.

"Please, Lord, I am a father. I t-thought Jedi could not b-breed." Sherlock looked down at John helplessly. John cast the knight a frightened look and managed to shoot a pleading one towards the crowd. The people began to sway in favor of the Jedi.

"He loves his pup!" One, it sounded like Sarah's father, called out.

"The pup's terrified! Leave him alone!"

Sherlock set John behind him, a protective hand was placed on the child's stomach. John gave a small whine of protest and tried to get back into his master's arms. "Father!"

"Ah. A padawan. So unlike you, Sherlock."

The knight released a low hiss as his name was said. He pressed John into his leg, small hands curled in his pants leg. "What are you talking about?" Sherlock cried indignantly.

Moran cracked a smooth across Sherlock's jaw line, the young knight stumbled to the ground. John gave a cry of anguish and threw himself over his master. His tiny body would protect little, but the crowd was moved by it.

_Master, are you…_

_Fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?_

_Old._

_Brat._

Sherlock yanked John against his chest as Moran executed a poorly aimed kick at the tiny figure. The crowd roared in defiance. Sherlock rose with John pressed deep into his upper body. He brought himself up on the balls of his feet, battle ready. Defense position seven.

"Stop!" A female cry rose from the balcony. "You cheer for the Gorian, but he is the slaver of our prince!" The princess leapt from the building in a graceful dive. John swallowed hard. "That boy in his arms calls his so called father "master" when no one can hear. He is not the son of the Gorian! He is the son of my father. That boy is Hamish."

Sherlock and John looked at each other in mirroring fright.

"Unheard of!" Sarah's father was yelling. "They love each other! Jedi can't love!"

Sherlock grimaced, John grinned.

_Told you._

_Shut up._

_Yes, Master._

Moran's eyes glittered dangerously, Sherlock instinctively tightened his grip. John glared at his sister, with a small frown he rolled his eyes. "I think I'd know if I was a prince, poodoo brains." He snapped.

"John." Sherlock scowled.

"Forgive me, Father." The boy said quietly.

"Let me go after the boy, Harry. I'll prove this Gorian a Jedi."

Harriet growled low at him. "Don't you dare touch him."

John gave a squeak and clung tightly to Sherlock's tunics. The knight snarled viscously at his former torturer. "Not the boy." Sherlock said quietly. "Leave him be." His voice as deadly as it had been when they were children. Sherlock hoped Moran remembered those days when the Sith's apprentice voice grew deep.

"You won't use it. You hated it." Moran sneered. "You don't want your beloved padawan to see you as the demon you are."

Sherlock smirked and brought his voice to a snarling whisper. "If you touch him, I will."

"Harriet, trust me. The Jedi won't let me hurt him."

"But you will try." Harriet snapped back. "That is my brother you threaten."

Moran's patience was breaking. He glanced to the padawan in his former opponents arms, red eyes meet ocean blue. Sherlock sighed heavily.

"Ready to die?" Moran hissed.

"Bored." Sherlock drawled.

A red light saber ignited, but was parried with a lightning blue. Sherlock tossed John out of the way with an order to run to the ship. He kicked Moran violently in the groin, the Acolyte grunted and barely managed to block an attack to his head. Sherlock growled as he applied pressure to his saber, Moran grimaced.

The Acolyte made a low kick to Sherlock's legs, but the knight anticipated and flipped backwards. He landed gracefully next to John. "Your promise, John." Sherlock said evenly.

"Master…" John activated his own light saber and caught a blow from an impending guard. "Let me help. Please?"

"Little one, your promise. Go."

John looked up at him painfully. "I can't…" He muttered, he caught another blow off his light saber. "Master, I can't leave you."

"John!" Sherlock had anticipated this. He knew the boy would sooner die than leave him, but John had to go. Sherlock deflected a blow from Moran and knelt before the child quickly. "Please. You know I deplore begging. Please John, run away. Think of your nightmare."

"Master, are you proud of me?" John demanded as he kicked aside a guard. Sherlock caught another blow from Moran and sent him spinning away.

"Little one, not here."

"Tell me." John said shortly.

Moran's arm closed around Sherlock's windpipe and pulled him back. Sherlock buried his elbow deep into the dark one's belly. "Yes!" Sherlock shouted unwillingly. "Yes, little one!" He threw Moran into Harriet as she ran to collect John.

John beamed. "Then my nightmare can't come true."

"John, please." Sherlock said, knowing his own nightmare would. "They will use you against me."

"Only if we get caught." John grinned evilly, taking a swing at Moran.

_John._

_Are you planning on getting caught?_

_Yes._

_Master!_

_Run. Now. You promised me._

_Master, I…please, don't make me-_

Moran snatched John a bone crushing grip, Sherlock gave a low snarl and immediately Force shoved the Acolyte away from his padawan. He swept John into his arms and growled as more guards approached them. Harriet led the charge as Moran managed to pick himself off the ground. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's.

"Please."

"I won't leave you." John pounded his little fist against the strong chest for emphases. "I can't." He gave Sherlock a small pout. Sherlock backed into a wall with his light saber held firmly in front of him. His off the record orders from Mycroft were to surrender and find out everything about the lost padawans possible.

"John you have to run." Sherlock said coldly. "If you don't, if we make it out alive, I will transfer your apprenticeship." Sherlock parried away a glancing blow from Moran. He glared down at the tiny body in his arms.

John buried his face in the side of Sherlock's neck. "I refuse to leave you, Master. I am sorry that is your consideration."

"Then we abandon the mission and go home." Sherlock snarled as he threw his shoulder into a guard, his feet danced in and out of the guards trying to take him. John's tears were warm on his master's neck. Sherlock did not comfort the child. Of course he wouldn't transfer the apprenticeship, John was his. Sherlock danced on the shoulders of Stewjon's natives with John pressed firmly against his chest.

John looked down over the passing crowd with a small gasp of awe. John blinked back tears and stuck his face back in Sherlock's neck. "I'm so sorry, Master."

"Shut up." Sherlock hissed. He nipped the small ear. "You are forgiven, I should have known you wouldn't abandon me." Sherlock felt sky blue eyes on him and grinned. "You are mine. Mine."

"Yes, Master." John swallowed his tears. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for facts, little one." Sherlock said curtly as he propelled himself off the shoulder of an attacking guard and flipped. He held John firmly against his chest. Sherlock looked back at the defeated group of guards with a small smirk.

Until a strong pressure on his windpipe stilled his breathing.

He shoved John away from him as Harriet pulled her belt around the knight's neck. Sherlock mentally kicked himself. Of course it had been the belt, it was formed from the same materials as Sith's collars. Clearly that was the reason the princess couldn't be sensed. Sherlock gave John a small Force shove.

"John, run!" He choked as she pulled tighter. Sherlock reached for his fallen saber.

"Master!" John slid under his teacher's legs and made a jab at his sister calf. Moran caught the child's blow easily and hoisted the small figure into the air by the back of his shirt. Sherlock struggled against the belt around his wind pipe as Harriet kick his saber away.

John squirmed in the Acolyte's grip, his feet swung wildly. He desperately tried to kick the red eyed man. Harriet was bringing Sherlock to his knees.

"John!" He croaked.

"Master!"

"John!" The knight's world went black.


	29. Chapter 29

"It's alright Hamish."

A woman clad in a long white dress stroked his hair lovingly, her hair was tied back in a beautiful bun that reminded him of childhood. A gently cloud settled over his eyes, preventing him from seeing the woman clearly. She hummed to him an old lullaby.

"Mum." He groaned.

"Hello, Hamish." She smiled at him.

"Mummy?" He cried. The woman smiled, her head was shrouded in gold reflecting brightly from her hair. John reached for her slowly. He needed his mother's comfort, he needed someone's comfort.

"John!" A strong voice roared, the woman flinched. "John, think. Think! Remember your mother, your real mother!"

John blinked rapidly. His mum was always warm and kind and…never called him Hamish. She named him John, he was always John to her. She'd never hear of calling him by his royal name. He shoved the woman away.

"Grandpa!" He called. A silver haired man launched over the child's bed, green saber drawn. The woman leapt back and brandished a whip. She aimed it for the strong man's chest, but the master rolled away. The covers wrapped themselves around the child's ankles, he was stopped from helping the master. "Grandpa!"

"John, find Sherlock! Find him and tell him…!" The whip missed the master by centimeters. "Tell him he'll be… Kriffing pyscho!"

John reached for the silver haired man. But the visions were fading away, John cried for the silver haired man again. But his grandfather only winked.

Sith spit.

oOo

"This is familiar."

Moran was clearly enjoying himself, Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Repetition is boring." He huffed. His knees were starting to ache, but the knight remained emotionless. His hands were chained to a horizontal pipe above his head, Moran had forced the knight to his knees. Sherlock felt another prick at the base of his neck. Needles were being placed strategically around his body at different pressure points, Sherlock could only imagine for what.

"Comfortable?"

"If I answer "yes" will you stop talking?" Sherlock drawled.

The answer was a short smack across the face. Sherlock grunted as some of the needles went deeper into his skin, the Acolyte smirked. Sherlock sighed. "Dull."

"That isn't what your beloved master said when I had my way with him at the end."

Sherlock glared at the older man indifferently. "I felt my master die. It didn't last long enough for you lay out your tools, Seb." Sherlock gave him a sly smirk. "Sadly you cannot hurt me with him."

Moran grabbed the knight by throat, his fist clenched. "I was the one who ended his life. He was weak."

"And you are an imbecile. He d-died swiftly. Your precious m-master could have u-used him against me. Moron." Sherlock laughed as much as his constricted windpipe would allow. "He could have had his apprentice back if you hadn't ruined everyth-"

"You don't deserve him, you kriffing Jedi!" Moran shouted, slamming him to the ground. "I did everything! Do you hear me?! I would have done anything to be his apprentice, but he wanted you and kriffing gifts."

"Yes, because I am better." Sherlock sneered. He was growing dangerously close to blacking out.

He welcomed it.

"You've taken the master I idolize." Moran spat in the knight's face. "Now watch as I make your padawan mine."

"John would sooner die." Sherlock hissed confidently.

"John, maybe. But Hamish will be mine." The acolyte grinned. Sherlock snarled as he was thrown back against his bonds. The knight cringed.

"Hamish is non-existent."

"Not yet, my friend. But he will want to see you, and we will come to a compromise every time he does." Moran sneered and attached wires the small of Sherlock's back.

"You truly believe John will give up his identity for me?" Sherlock growled.

"I have no idea how willingly he will. But it can't be hard to steal an eight year old's identity, now can it? You were ten when the Jedi changed you."

"I wasn't changed." Sherlock said shortly. "I stopped hiding."

"Now who's being dull?" Moran grinned as his fingers danced over a switch. "Learned this at Tatooine. Not enough to kill you by five volts. Sure as hells make you want to die though." He gave a wicked wink and flipped the switch. Electric currents poured through the Jedi's back. Sherlock bit his lip to keep from screaming.

There would be no questions, only pain. It was a punishment for running away. Moran was laughing as Sherlock's body thrashed. "And to think I get to do this for every night you ran away. That'll be another twenty-two years, Holmes."

Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth.

Perhaps now he was looking forward to death.

No. Not even ample amounts of pain would ever make him want to leave John.

The urge to scream died in his chest.

oOo

John woke up in a fully furnished, beautiful bedroom. His eyes could barely focus the walls were so bright, he rolled over in the bed hoping to find Sherlock's scent. There was only the ocean.

John buried his head in the pillow and swore. He wanted his master, again he felt helpless. Sherlock was in trouble, and John was in the most beautiful bedroom, with curtains draped over his bed and a perfect view of the sea. Immediately the child flipped out of bed, only to have his leg snag at the end of a chain.

"Kriff it!" The boy growled angrily.

He heard soft shuffling, a woman's bare feet on the floor, the curtains were thrown open. "Hamish." The princess, his sister, sighed. "Watch your mouth, young man."

"Kriff off." John snarled. "My name is John, it always has been John."

"Hamish that is a lie the Jedi have told you." The princess said smoothly. "Our family has always had names that start with H-A. Harold, Harriet…"

"Mum didn't!" He shouted. "Her name was Lara, she named me John after her dad. She told the Jedi my name was John, and I agreed with her!" The boy stomped his foot, causing his room to shake. It was all he could remember about his mum, he would not let them take that from him.

"Hamish, you will be still." His older sister commanded.

"I will be rebellious until I know my master is alive!" John countered angrily. "I will be tedious until you call me by my real name, and I shall be a brat until this chain is removed!" He pointed to his leg.

"John!" She finally shouted. "Sit down, and for the love the gods shut your mouth."

John grinned triumphantly. Perhaps he could force Harriet to take him to Sherlock. His pocket saber was still poking him in the chest. The boy could easily free his master from his bonds. John slid onto the bed and obediently sat.

"Now I want to see my master." The child said coldly.

"He is no longer your owner, Ha-John. Can't you feel that? We've freed you from him."

The padawan of Sherlock Holmes cocked an unimpressed eyebrow and pointed at his shackles. "My master has yet to chain me down, though he has threatened it." John said with a sad smile. He bit down his tears, a crying eight year old would not get Sherlock back.

"John, I cannot take you to see him." Harriet changed her voice to gentle. She was trying to appeal to the eight year old in him. He gave a small pout.

"Why?"

"He is a prisoner and an apparent runaway slave. Moran is retraining him, and he shall be gone from you." She reached forward to stroke his hair, but John smacked her hand away.

"They can't." He said shortly.

"They are." She said gently.

"You misunderstand me, lady. Sherlock cannot be trained by anyone other than my grandfather, Sherlock's Jedi master." John said indifferently. His master was probably the strongest knight to ever live. Harriet glared at him. "I'd like to see my master, Harry." John said quietly.

"Your grandfather was king of this planet, as you will be one day. Your other grandfather was a duke…"

"I have only two grandfathers that come to mind." John snapped. "I have Master Qui Gon and Grandpa Lestrade. I have a brother named Mikey and a sister named Mary. I have an uncle named Mycroft, a second mother named Rica, and I have a father called Sherlock. Kriff you if you think otherwise." John said fiercely.

Harriet gaped at him. Hamish had always been a soft spoken boy, never quick to yell, always soft and giggly. This boy was a strong solider, a proper future king. A John, not a Hamish.

"If I have it my way you will never see that slave again." She spat.

"You can't keep me from him." John snapped.

"Oh trust me, I can do more than you think." She gave him a hard shove, John toppled back. "I am trying to protect you, 'Mish. Moran is claiming you are legally a slave because of your papers tying you to the Jedi. You must stop claiming him as your father."

"I'd rather be with Sherlock." The boy mumbled, tears were in his eyes. The shove had been cruel. Jedi padawan he may have been, but he was still only eight. He glanced around and sighed when he realized his bear had been left at 221B. John exhaled miserably as he crawled in to bed. "Go away, Harry. You are no used to me if I can't see my teacher."

Harriet stalked out of the room in a furious rage. She slammed the door as hard as she could behind her. John wiggled under the blankets and prayed for sleep. He buried his head underneath the covers.

A steady pressure on the end of the mattress alerted him to another's presences. The being came across with a friendly aura, but John still frowned. "Go away, hundark." John snapped.

"Careful, kid. You sound like your master when you snap like that." A warm voice chuckled. John whipped the covers from his head.

"Gr-Master!" John nearly launched himself at the ghostly figure of Lestrade, the silver haired man grinned.

"Grandpa's fine." He said softly as the child crawled towards him. His presence was shifty, but becoming somewhat clearer by the second. John beamed at him.

"How?" He asked with awe.

"Took me a while to figure out." The elder laughed. "Unfortunately it will not last long."

"You're here to help, right?" John asked hopefully.

The silver head shook. "No, little guy." He muttered sadly as he reached towards the young face. His fingers went through John's cheek, making the child shiver. "I don't exists anymore, therefore I cannot help."

John gave a dry sob. "I don't know what to do, Grandpa." John sniffled. "Sherlock is better at this than I am. I don't know how to get free or save my master."

"John." Those friendly brown eyes made him stop sniffling instantly. The child cocked his head questioningly, the vision grinned wildly. "Force, you are just like him, aren't you? Used to give me that head tilt all the time, the hundark." Lestrade's vision solidified enough to reach forward and hug the boy. "Get your bear and all will be well." He promised.

"My bear, sir?"

"Yup. That is the only clue I can give you, little little one." The vision released the child tiredly.

"Sherlock would want to see you, Grandpa." John prompted as the vision began to fade.

Lestrade gave the child a weak smile. "I will not be able to go to him until the end, little little one. He is too close to me, I cannot help until…"

John gave a small frown. "Until the end of what, Grandfather."

Lestrade hesitated. "Do you trust me, kid?"

"Almost as much as Sherlock." John said empathetically.

"Good." The figure winked and vanished.

John hated how much like Sherlock his grandfather truly was. He settled back underneath the warm blankets. Secretly he wished Sherlock was there to tuck him in.

Get his bear back?

Why did it sound like he'd have to kiss some serious arse?

"Son of a Sith."


	30. Chapter 30

He blinked heavily as light filtered into his cell.

"For Force's sake close the door." Sherlock shook his dark head angrily. Moran's latest game had been inducing migraines upon the poor man every hour or so. His head felt like a melon fruit under a hammer. The cell door closed.

"It must be difficult for you not having the Force, being cut off from your deductive reason." A snide voice railed him. It was garbled, but Sherlock smirked.

"It does not take the Force to know your heavy tread, my lady." Sherlock said snidely. His head was killing him, he didn't mind physical pain, but his mind was beginning to ache. "What do you want?" He hissed.

"My brother will not take to me."

Sherlock snorted. "Color me surprised."

"Tell me why he won't." She said quietly.

"Get the migraines to stop, and I will consider helping you." Sherlock clenched his teeth in pain. Harriet knelt in front of him with two pills in her hand, she pressed them to the knight's lips. He swallowed them dry.

The ache vanished.

"Tell me."

"You took him from everything he cares about and you cannot figure out why he isn't smothering you in love?" Sherlock almost laughed.

"The Jedi took him, I've saved…"

"He doesn't see it like that." Sherlock growled. "You to look at it through his eyes. Jedi have a bond, you've all but temporally severed it between us. It hurts." He said hotly.

"I would never cause Hamish pain." Harriet said shortly. "He is my little brother, he learned to walk at my hands."

"And he learned to stand up for himself, wield a light saber, and drive a cruiser at mine." Sherlock said evenly. "This collar is prevent us from communicating, let me see him."

"I cannot…"

"Then ask him about the Jedi. Find out his point of view on things, don't try to erase it. He likes to be challenged, not smothered." Sherlock snapped. "Call him John, not Hamish. Let him practice with the Force on his own. Let him see me alive."

"He knows you are alive."

"Trust me he needs to see for himself." Sherlock said slowly. "They've been talking, in a week I will be in the custody of my original owner, and John will need an ally. If you give him what he wants until I am gone he will come to you willingly." Sherlock lied.

She frowned. "He doesn't sleep. It's been four days, why won't he sleep?"

Sherlock hesitated. "In our old flat there is a robe and a bear on a bed, he will only sleep with those or..."

"Or?"

"Me." Sherlock said softly. "He needs to be able to smell me."

"You just want me to bring him to you." She said shortly.

"I want my padawan." Sherlock confirmed steadily. "But only to make sure he is alright. He is my responsibility, I have a duty to him."

"Is that all he is to you?" She spat. "A duty? How can you not love him?"

"Jedi, as well as Siths, are forbidden to love. I cannot love John." Sherlock said simply.

Harriet grabbed at his throat. "He loves you, and that is all you can say? You don't deserve him."

"Clearly."

She threw him to the ground angrily and stalked out.

Sherlock smiled.

Now she was no longer threatened by him.

oOo

They attached him to longer chains to give him more reach.

The choice had been given that John could change one thing about his identity or Sherlock could have his leg broken. Obviously Sherlock chose the latter. He limped/paced angrily around his cell waiting for the door to open.

He had to inform the child of their daring escape.

The door clinked.

John walked in slowly, eyes cast down, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Harriet was still whispering proper edict in the child's ear. John's lips pressed into a thin line. "And don't call him "master", and don't touch him, and don't even think of…"

It changed when the boy's sky blue eyes found his master's ocean blue. The two Jedi stared at each other for only a second before John launched himself into Sherlock's arms. The knight nipped the child's ear lightly.

John nipped his master's ear four times to make up for lost days. Sherlock rocked the child soothingly under Harriet's watchful. Both Jedi ignored her.

Sherlock sat down with his back pressed deep into the wall. His chains clanged noisily, causing John to whimper. Sherlock pried the boy from around his neck to inspect the child for injuries. John held still under Sherlock's quick fingers, the boy was perfectly healthy. Sherlock exhaled.

John made his master sit still so he could be inspected. The child instantly cringed at the broken leg, but after turning Sherlock's head every which way, having the Jedi lift his arms, and cupping the forming scruff on his master's cheeks, John was satisfied enough to crawl back into his master's arms.

At last the elder spoke. "Eat."

"Do."

"More."

"Sick."

"John."

The watery sky blue eyes peeked at the master unsurely. "I eat." He said timidly.

"Eat more than enough to sustain you, moron." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He caught his padawan's chin and stared into the young face. John giggled as his teacher cocked an eyebrow.

"Missed you." John mumbled as he curled himself tighter into Sherlock's chest. He passed Sherlock his reed pipes hopefully. Sherlock played a soft melody that made the child smile. Sherlock stroked the boy's hair as he handed the precious instrument back.

His child was an absolute genius.

"Clever." He muttered into the child's ear, the small pocket saber hid slid out of the last pipe and now rested in his hand.

John beamed.

"I'll be as clever as you one day." John grinned. "Then you can be my sidekick."

Sherlock tickled the child's armpits. "Never. No one is as clever as I, brat."

John laughed fiercely as the tickling continued. "Master! Stop! Please!"

Sherlock smiled, John's laughter was slightly intoxicating.

Slightly.

He allowed the child to settle back against his master's chest. Harriet frowned at both of them, Sherlock cocked his head. She sighed. "He cannot call you "master" anymore. And you should never address him as "brat". He is a prince, he has no master. And no one reserves the right to call him "brat"."

John glared at his sister angrily. Sherlock stroked the boy's back soothingly, John buried his face deep in his master's chest. "Teacher, please…"

"It is alright, little one." Sherlock said softly. He curled around the child protectively as John began to snivel. John cried against his mentor's bare chest. Harriet faltered.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the young woman. John was nuzzling his teacher's neck fiercely. Harriet frowned deeper. "It is time to go, Hamish."

John let out a loud sob and clung tighter to the Jedi.

"Let him dry his eyes first." Sherlock demanded as John sniffled into the knight's side. John whimpered noisily as Sherlock pushed the boy away. He ran the pad of his thumb over the child's tear stained cheeks. "Enough, John."

"M-master." John wept.

Sherlock ground his teeth to together. He lowered his voice and spoke in the native language of Tatooine. _"It will not take long, little one. I need to find out more about the missing padawans."_

His padawan responded in kind. _"And then we can go home?"_

" _Yes."_ Sherlock cupped the child's cheek.

"I warn you, Jedi. Do not speak in foreign languages again." Harriet hissed.

" _Five days at most."_

"Jedi."

Sherlock nipped at John's ear. "I promise you." He said in basic.

"Yes, Master." John looked at the ground. He looked towards his sister and whispered softly in Tatooine's language. _"Grandpa came to visit. He said I need to retrieve my bear."_

" _My master?"_ Sherlock blinked at his padawan.

" _What other grandpa is there?"_ John snorted.

Sherlock didn't ask if there had been a message left for him, the knight merely pulled the child in closer and sniffed him. John sighed as Sherlock ran his nose over the fair hair. Sherlock wrapped his arms tighter around the small being as Harriet told them it was time to go.

John shook his head against Sherlock's chest.

"Little one." Sherlock tilted the young chin up ward. Their foreheads met lightly, John gave another small sniffle, but allowed Sherlock to hush him. "I will see you again." Sherlock said firmly.

"Yes, Master." John mumbled.

"Practice your forms."

"Yes, Master."

"Eat more than a meal a day."

"Yes, Master."

Sherlock kissed the soft brow gently. "Don't tell anyone about that." He gave a halfhearted tease.

"I won't, Master." John wrapped his arms around the tall man's neck once more.

"Go." Sherlock gave his padawan a light nudge towards his sister. The boy teetered, then nodded solemnly. The child gave the man a short bow, Sherlock gave him a dismissive nod.

It killed the young knight to dismiss his padawan so calmly. It killed him to be separated from his child. But it would have killed him even more to have the boy forcibly ripped from his arms. He allowed one more swift embrace, enough to memorize John's smell further and once again muttered, "go".

Harriet frowned at the pair.

oOo

She walked Hamish into the cold cell unhappily.

His shoulders slumped further and further in defeat as she reminded him the child was no longer attached to the Jedi in custody. She scolded him for mumbling that the Jedi was still his master. He was a prince, the need to act like one was great.

She opened the door and did her best to remind him of the proper way to treat the slave, but the moment Hamish's eyes found the Jedi's it was clear he would no longer listen to her. Hamish stood perfectly still as the Jedi's eyes wonder over him. The child's eyes immediately teared as he ran to the strong knight.

Hamish cried as he was clasped to the bare chest. The knight kept his face emotionless, but his eyes were shining joyfully. Broken leg be damned, the knight held her brother fiercely. The Jedi nipped each other's ears.

The tall Jedi half sat, half fell against the wall as he clung to the child. The dark haired knight gave her brother a gentle shove away and began thoroughly inspecting for injuries. He kept a spidery hand rested on the child's neck, applying soothing pressure to the sensitive skin. Hamish seemed absolutely calm in the presences of the Jedi, despite the cold cell.

The knight reopened his arms, but the little boy shook his fair head. The child examined the master's leg with a grimace. The Jedi shook his head with a secretive smile meant only for the child. Hamish pulled at the knight's arms, turned his dark head every which way, and held the knight's cheeks between his little hands. The elder leaned forward and nipped the little boy's ear gingerly.

Hamish crawled into the Jedi's arms and settled into against his chest.

They were made for each other.

The Jedi pulled the child close. He seemed to be weighing the small boy. "Eat."

"Do."

"More."

"Sick."

"John."

John.

His name is Hamish.

She wanted to scream at them both. Her brother's name was Hamish.

They were smiling, music drifted from the knight's corner. Hamish smiled and cracked a snide comment, the knight's lips twitched. "Brat." There was fierce giggling.

Unacceptable.

Harriet let out an irritated sigh. "He cannot call you "master" anymore. And you should never address him as "brat". He is a prince, he has no master. And no one reserves the right to call him "brat"."

The Jedi soothed the angered boy until the rage turned into bitter sobs. The Jedi was instantly protective, he curled around the child and glared at the young woman.

"It's time to go, Hamish."

"Let him dry his eyes first." The Jedi snapped. The child was thrust away gently, the pad of the Jedi's thumb dried his tears. Harriet bit down jealousy as Hamish stood perfectly still for the knight. Hamish had fought her in every way, eating what only servants brought to him, pretending to sleep when she was present, refusing to answer to his royal name. "Enough, John."

John.

He really wasn't her Hamish anymore. He wasn't the little boy who used to hide behind their mother's skirts, he wasn't the little boy who used to smile so hugely to see her.

"M-master." John wept.

John.

The Jedi lowered his voice and began speaking in a tongue she couldn't understand. "Ivt to kun pada, ton min. Ju pica non ve bia hanna tu padawans."

"Se vasa fui?"

"Gee." The Jedi cupped the small cheek. John nuzzled his teacher's palm.

She warned them both to stop, but what could she do? Whip the Jedi in front of her brother? He'd truly hate her.

"Quin has fes."

"Jedi."

"I promise you." He said gently. He nipped the boy's ear.

"Yes, Master." John gave her a small glare. "Granpapa ja so lo gearo. Te blar tucon I slew bearo."

"Me shifta?" The Jedi sound almost hurt.

John snorted. "Alacic granpapa tu fearos?"

The knight pulled the child back against him. Something was wrong in the handsome knight's eyes. There was pain, clear pain. Perhaps it was because the Force no longer hid his emotions, or because the child could not see his eyes. The Jedi sniffed the child possessively.

She intervened by telling John it was time to go.

She still used his royal name.

"Little one." The knight tilted her brother's chin up ward. Their foreheads met lightly, John gave another small sniffle. "I will see you again." The Jedi said firmly.

"Yes, Master." John mumbled.

"Practice your forms."

"Yes, Master."

"Eat more than a meal a day."

"Yes, Master."

The Jedi gave the child a light kiss on the forehead.

The kriffing Jedi loved her brother after all.

"Go." The Jedi said firmly. Her brother barely let him go before he embraced the Jedi once again. "Go." The Jedi murmured sadly.

Harriet tried to pull John close as they exited the cell, but the little boy stalked ahead of her without a backward glance.


	31. Chapter 31

His torturer was grinning furiously at him.

At least from the knight's point of view it looked like a grin, his upside down position was starting to hinder his vision as the blood pooled behind his eyes. The chains that restrained his ankles to the ceiling ached fervently, but as always he didn't scream. He fidgeted uncomfortably with his bound hands. Moran was actually asking him questions this session.

How dull.

"What were you hoping to achieve by coming here, Holmes? Why follow me?" The same question for the last hour.

Sherlock's silence remained unchanged. Moran sighed heavily.

"Leave him up there." He said with a lazy wave. He gave Sherlock a small wink. "Think I'll go visit my little Hamish. He was looking rather like rubbish at his saber forms."

Sherlock said nothing.

Moran rolled his eyes, he nodded to his two guards to follow him. "You choose this, Jedi."

Sherlock allowed himself to take a deep breath in. At the very least he knew John was not slacking on his padawan duties. Sherlock's body swung loosely back and forth, he let out a loud exhale.

"You could simply answer him, you know?"

"Of course I know." Sherlock told his visitor boredly. Harriet stepped from the doorway quietly. "But he has already answered my questions. I know exactly where to go from here. Idiot should clean his boots more often." She was glaring at him more fiercely than usual.

_What has that wretched child done now?_

"We searched the flat for John's bear." She said stoutly.

John, she had been calling the boy by his non-royal name for the last few visits.

"And?"

"I found this." She said coldly, holding out a small holo-orb accusingly. Sherlock's brow scrunched in a scowl. He had forgotten about that, Rica must have planted on him as they left temple. It was meant to stay at his quarters, hidden from John.

"Have you shown John?" He asked coolly.

"No. I assumed you had."

Sherlock said nothing. He rolled his eyes at the idiotic woman.

_Sentiment._

Harriet ran her finger over the activation button delicately, the ball glowed with warmth. A small hologram flickered above the orb revealing a grinning Lestrade and a small, unhappy Sherlock.

That wasn't completely true.

Lestrade held him by the shoulders with a stupid grin. Molly, Lestrade's friend, had tried to coax Sherlock into a smile while she took the photo. Sherlock had only been with Lestrade a month and refused to even smirk.

Harriet twisted the orb until the next hologram appeared. Lestrade was laying on his stomach with a smaller Sherlock sitting on the older man's back. Lestrade was laughing, Sherlock had the smallest of smiles.

The next one had Sherlock talking very seriously to Qui Gon. The twelve year old's eyes were shining.

Sherlock was being thrown over Lestrade's shoulder, both men were laughing, even as Sherlock's foot collided with the master's face.

Sherlock and Lestrade shoving each other.

Sherlock and Lestrade in the healer's bay.

Sherlock and Lestrade on the younger's knighting day.

It should have been the end of them.

But another image flickered across the orb.

John and Sherlock were walking through the doorway, both of their backs were turned away from the photographer. John had his bear dragging behind him, and Sherlock's hand was carded through the boy's hair.

Rica had taken it when they were exiting the healer's bay.

The next was John curled into Sherlock's strong chest as the elder lay on a hospital bed. John's head was cuddled into the side of Sherlock's neck, the knight was snoring softly. John's arms were wrapped tightly around Sherlock's upper body.

There was John and Sherlock sitting on one of the temple's many balconies. The child was perched in the elder's lap pointing at stars. For once Sherlock did not look bored.

"When you said you did not love my brother…you lied."

"Jedi do not lie." Sherlock said shortly as he swung. And he never claimed not to love the child.

But he didn't.

Of course not.

Harriet paused. With a long sigh she cut the Jedi down from the ceiling, he collapsed in a heap on the floor. The knight let out a painful grunt, his ribs were smashed from Moran's previous visit.

"You've angered Moran by not responding to his torture." Harriet leaned into the doorway.

Sherlock said nothing.

"You must be in pain." She said softly. The young woman bent to free the dark haired man's wrists.

"It is not the worst torture I've endured." Sherlock rubbed circulation into his hands.

"Your back?"

"No."

"Then…"

John.

The child wasn't with him, wasn't smiling shyly at him, wasn't chatting useless knowledge, hoping his master would find it interesting. Being away from the boy was the worst feeling Sherlock had ever experienced. But to answer Harriet's question he shrugged.

"John won't sleep, he barely eats, he acts as though he is dying." She said dejectedly. "He has been locked in the training room for the last three days. He will only speak to me, our father is becoming displeased."

"What do you want me to do, princess?" Sherlock asked snidely.

"Get him to sleep." She said tiredly. "I will bring him to you. He does not have to change anything about his identity if…if you let me keep this." She twirled the orb on her finger.

There was no denying John looked more happy than he ever had in his life in the photos. Even as a child he had seemed miserable, always clinging to their mother. He never wanted to sit in their father's throne, he just wanted to play with his toys.

"There are…the first few holograms are mine." Sherlock said crossly.

"I have given you your choice."

Sherlock's frown lines deepened. There were no other photos of his master that he knew of. As much as he detested sentiment, there were some things he would have liked to have kept. Sherlock released a tired sigh. He was too proud to beg.

"Bring him to me."

oOo

John stumbled into his mater's cell with a barely conscious stare.

"Padawan!" Sherlock snapped as John blinked incomprehensively. The boy was too young to attempt to stay awake for more than a day. The child dragged himself to his master.

"You told me to practice." John mumbled.

Sherlock clutched a thin shoulder in each hand. John gazed at him with unseeing eyes. The knight pulled the child against the firm torso, the boy sagged against it gratefully. It wasn't long before the tears dripped down the boy's cheeks and onto the chest.

"I can't feel you anymore, Master." John cried miserably.

Sherlock wrapped himself tighter around the boy. He nipped the child's ears delicately. "Little one." He began scenting John as the boy collapsed against him. "My little one."

The knight's own pain was great.

They weren't meant to separated. The bond forbade it and when it occurred both parties suffered.

"Master, please." John cried with exhaustion. "I wanna go home."

"That is a coward's statement." Sherlock arranged the boy in his lap. "I won't accept it."

John whimpered. "It hurts, Teacher."

"I think, padawan, what you mean to communicate is an apology for your deliberate disobedience." Sherlock kissed the soft head gently.

"I didn't…I-you knew I wouldn't run."

"Then you made your promise with the plan to deceive me if the situation should arise."

The child cried harder. "What if you got hurt because I wasn't.."

"It is not your job to protect me, padawan." Sherlock said sorely. "You have disrespected my authority as your maser."

"I have honored it, Master." John said at last with the spark of his old self. "I fought for what I believed in, as per your instructions. I did not blindly follow any form of authority, and I have not obeyed any influence I did not trust while I have been here."

"Little one, we will discuss this at length when we return to the temple." Sherlock stroked the boy's back.

The promise of home earned him a satisfied sigh. John snuggled his master as the elder finished scenting. "Our bond is not normal, is it, Master?" John asked quietly. "I have been meditating, other masters aren't as close to their padawans."

"Other padawans are not as young as you, John." Sherlock explained carefully. "You were…you were given to me at a young age to…"

"Master Mycroft told me it was to save you from…" John hesitated. Sherlock remembered their first day. Mycroft had taken John from the room to confront him. "To save you from yourself." John finished shyly.

Sherlock blankly stared down at the boy. With a small sigh he nodded. "You were given to me with every sense of growing attached."

"But the code…"

"Little one, it is unlikely for a master and student to not become attached to one another. The reason you are in pain is because our bond is being blocked. It causes pain for any Jedi. Your age has forced patience and kindness upon me." Sherlock ran his hands through John's soft hair.

John frowned. "When you first…when we first…did you want me, Master?"

"No." Sherlock said truthfully. "That should come as no shock to you, little one."

John sighed, truthfully it hadn't surprised the young boy. "I didn't want you either, Master. You were very unpleasant." John's hand twitched nervously. "I thought you must not like me."

"At first you were a heavy nuisances." Sherlock nipped his padawan's ear. "You still are."

"But a welcomed one?" His padawan inferred gently.

"A welcomed brat." Sherlock confirmed. The child giggled for the first time in three days. He nuzzled his master affectionately. "Barely, of course."

"And you are a barely welcomed pain, Master mine." John began to relax against the familiar bed that was his master's chest. He allowed himself to let sleep wash over him thoroughly, and with a slight, childish yawn he closed his eyes. "I would give much to feel your Force presence again, Master."

Sherlock stroked the young back soothingly. The boy fell asleep gratefully under the elder's careful eye.

"Why is he so much more comforted by you?" Harriet demanded heatedly. "Even as a child he was never this calm."

Sherlock gave a small snort. "He is still a child now. Except no one is abusing him, or trying to turn him towards something he does not want to be."

"He wanted to be king." The princess snapped.

"No." Sherlock said coldly. "He didn't."

John brought his knees to his chest and shivered. Sherlock wrapped his bare arms around the child's small form, but was still greeted with harsh trembling. Harriet handed him a robe and a familiar looking bear. Sherlock enveloped the child in the course material of his robe and was met with a small coo. He reached for the bear, but Harriet withheld it.

"Our mother gave him this." She said angrily. "Proof that he still cares for something from his home."

"The only proof your present, madam, is that a child loves his teddy bear. At the end of the day John is still only a little boy. And now thanks to you he is a very lonely little boy."

"I am his sister." She said firmly.

"And I am his master!" Sherlock roared. "Blood relations are meaningless. My own biological father sold me, my teacher saved me. The Jedi are better than any blood relations you promise." Sherlock pulled John further up his chest to prove a point. The boy cuddled him instinctually.

Harriet glared at him hatefully. Sherlock barely managed to control his increased breathing, John rose with his master's heaving chest. The young woman grudgingly passed him the bear. Sherlock took it carefully so as not to upset John. He laid it under little boy's arm. John gave a dramatic snore and curled into a tighter ball.

His master smirked.

"You are an all-powerful Jedi, can you not simply reach for him whenever you wish." Harriet murmured jealously.

"Your collar is very…restrictive." Sherlock said drily. "Any attempt at use of the Force drains away my life energy."

"He says he can feel you. Sometimes." She said briskly.

"When he is sleeping, or frightened." Sherlock replied easily. "I will never leave him completely."

Harriet's frown lines deepened. "It is becoming harder for you."

The knight said nothing.

"You are dying." She worked out swiftly.

"Keep your voice down." The knight hissed. John didn't even stir, his young face was peaceful with sleep.

"How long?" She said curtly.

"Two days. Probably less." Sherlock ran his fingers over the delicate skin behind John's ear. Goose flesh formed around the base of the child's neck. John wrapped himself tighter around his bear.

"What will become of the pup?" Harriet asked softly.

Sherlock gave her a surprisingly sympathetic look.

"He will be taken care of."

Always.


	32. Chapter 32

"I cannot control him unless you allow me to use the pup, Father."

"You will not use my legitimate heir to…"

Moran held up his hand in a silencing gesture. "If you wish for the Sith's protection then there will be obedience here, Father."

The king took a menacing step forward, his royal cloak swished elegantly about his feet. "Hamish is my son."

"The boy himself recognizes the Jedi as his parental figure. He is still John, not your Hamish. Let me change that for you, let me turn the child against his master." Moran played his father like a set of reed pipes. His words flowed with the Force.

"How?" The king asked, at last sounding desperate.

Moran pulled out a small jab and ran his thumb over the needle. "With help from my own master.

oOo

John was beginning to forget his dislike of Harriet.

She referred to him only as "John", no longer Hamish. She allowed him to practice with the Force under her watchful eye. She even sparred with him occasionally. John grimaced as a play sword cut his leg.

Harriet was immediately apologetic, but John waved her off. He was in too good a mood to be worried about a small cut.

Today was the day his master promised escape.

John leaned against the stone walls of the training facility and watched his leg heal itself. Harriet watched in awe. "Did the Jedi teach you this?"

"No." John said proudly. "I have always been able to heal myself."

Harriet unlaced her combat boots slowly, she placed her sword on the weapons table. The young woman worried at her lower lip. "Not when you lived here, John." She said slowly.

John shook his head. Clearly Harry didn't remember. "Harriet, I could heal myself from the first day I arrived at temple."

John remembered slipping on the way from his savior's ship and getting a bloody nose. His rescuer merely smiled as he wiped the blood away. It was the only part of the Jedi's face he had been allowed to see, for fear of developing attachment the Jedi kept his hood drawn over his head.

"Easy, little guy." The master chuckled. The Jedi grinned when he noted the absences of any injury to the child's nose once the blood was cleaned. "Look at that. You are quite strong with the Force, kid."

John had beamed with pride.

Harriet roused him back to the present moment with a soft shake. He blinked at her, she had her jaw clenched defiantly as a robed figure approached. John jutted his chin out proudly as he sense the Sith's spawn approach. Moran grinned evilly at the little boy.

With a lazy click of the fingers he tried to summon John to his side. The boy merely cocked a defiant eyebrow. Moran chuckled. "Ah, this will be fun."

Harriet stepped between the brothers protectively. "What do you want, Seb?"

"To take the boy to his master, dear sister." Moran said sweetly. "I am having the Jedi prepared for his arrival now, it would be a shame to keep him waiting. Wouldn't it, John?"

"What do I have to change?" The child said cautiously.

"Nothing, dear child. Your master has agreed to change for you."

At that the child leap from his spot, his eyes bore in Moran's angrily. Moran inclined his head thoughtfully at the child's temper. "Two steps behind and to the left, Johnny boy."

John swallowed his temper whole. He pulled his bear from its perch, it never left his side since being blessed by his grandfather.

_Master?_

Nothing.

oOo

As a child healing had been more excruciating than the torture.

The first time Lestrade tried to take him to the healer, Sherlock had sob shamefully and begged at his master's feet not to make him go. As the imbecile's reattached his shoulder joints he remembered why.

The ball was thrust back into the socket mercilessly. Sherlock gave a small grunt of pain, the Jedi thrashed away from the "healers", but was immediately silenced by several whips to the back. They pinned his arms behind him as the young Jedi struggled.

There wasn't a bone in his body not broken. The healers ignored those and set all his dislocated joints back into place. Sherlock gave a murderous yell when the reasserted his hip bone into place. His broken bones screamed loudly with protest.

They held his head down forcefully and began reattaching nerve fibers in his neck. The Jedi kicked out, managing to strike one swiftly in the stomach. The healer flew back. "Leave me be, damn you!"

Sherlock was immediately restrained again under rough hands. When they made their way to his back and began relocating his spinal cord into proper position he blacked out. He allowed himself to be washed away by the will of the Force. It was a mild comfort, one that was interrupted as he was slapped awake.

They needed to dress him.

He was shoved cruelly into the black uniform of Sith's. Dark black pants, a tight muscle shirt, his hair was greased back into place, and all his curls became smooth. He noted the lady healer took her time pulling his pants up. As if it wasn't humiliating enough to be dressed, he was being thoroughly examined by a woman with lingering eyes.

They pushed him back into his cell with no chains.

Only his collar.

He didn't want John to see him dressed as the thing the boy feared most. He didn't want John's mind to think his master had willing changed to a Sith. The knight paced nervously, his limbs were on fire.

The cell door creaked open, Sherlock's eyes fluttered to the Acolyte and the boy standing side by side, Moran's hand rested painfully on John's shoulder. John shot Sherlock a pleading look.

"Come here." Sherlock commanded softly. The boy pulled out of Moran's grasp and ran to his master's side. Sherlock did not comfort the child, he merely pushed the boy behind him as Moran produced a small needle. John clutched his mentor's leg. "He's only a child."

"It did not stop us from using it on you, and you were younger." Moran's eyes glittered wildly. Sherlock cast Moran a bored look.

"If this is what it takes for you to control a child, it is no wonder you were never made a Sith's apprentice." Sherlock carefully tapped John's head. His pocket saber was hidden in a small crevasse behind the boy's leg. The code was well received.

"Unfortunately it is not meant for him, my friend." Moran said coldly.

Sherlock was baffled for only a second. It was meant for him, to show John what a full Sith Lord could do. It was meant to chase John away. "Moran…"

"Oh yes, please beg. Not that it will change anything."

Sherlock shoved his padawan away from him forcefully. John shot him a look full of hurt, Sherlock cringed. "John, run. Go find your sister."

Moran cocked a sly smile. "Stay here, boy. Or I will torture your master into his next life."

"Little one, run. Now." Sherlock said shortly as Moran approached him with the jab. Sherlock reached for the Force though the collar drained away his life energy. He laced his voice with power. "John, obey me!" He shouted.

John did the exact opposite of his master's wishes. A small green blade came to life in his hand, to which he attacked Moran with. He sank the blade into the Acolyte's leg. Moran screamed and fell back, the jab clattered to the floor.

"Master, what is…?"

"A liquid form of the blood crystal." Sherlock shoved John behind his master's leg. "It is the source of your nightmare, little one." John clutched Sherlock's pant leg terrified. Moran limped towards them, needle back in hand.

"Master, m-my nightmare, I d-don't…" John wept nosily. In his nightmare he had tortured his master, the boy couldn't let that happen. "Sherlock." He whimpered.

The knight scooped the boy close to his chest, the boy's bear fell to the ground. "That is enough, little one. You are a very unattractive little boy when you cry."

John buried his face in his master's neck. "You said we were gonna escape…" He muttered.

"Yes, John. And Jedi do not lie." Sherlock's voice was far away. The knight placed his lips against the child's fair head. The boy faltered. "I am attached to you, John."

"Mas-"

"Goodbye, my little one."

If pulling a light saber apart knocked him out, pulling Moran apart would surely kill him. Especially with the effects of his collar.

Sherlock held John's head delicately against his strong shoulder, reaching into the Force he centered on protecting his padawan. His focus remained trained on John as the collar fed off his life energy. Moran's being began to shimmer. Sherlock focused on his padawan's soft hair, the way it tickled his nose. The small body that was clinging to his shirt, Sherlock marvel a finally time at John's tiny hands. He took comfort in the fact that his padawan would never be harmed by the Acolyte.

Moran was screaming, he stared at his limbs as hands vanished before his eyes. Sherlock pressed John tighter against his neck. He kept the child's eyes cover and felt the warmth of tears on his palm.

One day John would understand.

He had to stay safe.

The little boy had to stay pure.

Moran's arms were gone, his legs, his lower half.

Beads of sweat dripped down the young Jedi's face. John began struggling against his master's grip. "Master! Master, please!"

Sherlock clasped the boy tighter as his life energy drained. Sherlock staggered forward and fell to his knees. Moran screamed loudly as his head was lost into the Force. Sherlock barely managed to maintain his hold on the boy as he fell to his side.

John called for him repeatedly, but the knight's ears refused to hear the boy's pleading calls. His ocean grey eyes looked deeply into John's sky blue and slowly, ever so slowly, closed.

"MASTER!" The child screamed.

Sherlock's eyes reopened when the boy screamed for him.

"Little one." He croaked. John was stroking his hair gently. Sherlock reached for the tiny hand and applied light pressure. "I haven't much time."

"Don't say that, Master." John sobbed heavily. "You came back when I called you."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered as he motioned for the boy to lay on his chest. John obeyed his teacher swiftly, Sherlock sighed. "I did not get to say good bye in the visions."

"Master." The child cried.

"Little one, listen to me." Sherlock stared downward into sky blue eyes. "I have contacted Mycroft, he will be at the base by the time you arrive. When I have…"

"Master, please. I beg of you…"

"When I have passed, you will go there." Sherlock gave his padawan a light squeeze. "And you will not look back." Sherlock nipped the child's ear. "You will not look back."

"You will not die, Master. You cannot leave me." The child cried selfishly.

"Little one, I will never leave you. There is no death, child. Only the Force, I will remain with you, if you will remain with me until I am given to the Force."

"I-I will stay, Master." The child curled into a ball as his master's breathing grew labored. "You knew…"

The accused smiled painfully. "Yes, John."

John's breath hitched, the pain the child felt was indescribable. Surely his chest would burst from pain, there was no plausible way his lungs would take in air the same way again. His eyes would never dry, his nose would always run. Sherlock caressed his padawan's back gently. "You are angry?"

"Of course not, Master." John cried.

"Scared?"

"Yes." John whispered. "Don't go."

"If I could stay…" Sherlock pressed his lips to the child's forehead. "My little one, you are the only reason I do not wish to pass."

John wrapped his hands in the tight muscle shirt, his master's arms were tight around him. John could hear the former strong heart beat beginning to fade beneath his cheek. His master grew paler with every second. John buried his face into the strong chest, Sherlock gave a muffled groan. "Master…you can't…" The child's heart began to break.

"Little one." Sherlock was surprised to find himself crying. He begged the Force to let him stay with his padawan, to let him raise the boy. The child wasn't ready to be without him yet, it wasn't fair to John. Nor was it fair to the knight, who had only recently discovered kindness at the child's hands. "You will always be my little one." Sherlock said with pain.

"You will always be my master." John whispered.

"You will…" Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath. "Move on, with time."

"No." John said truthfully, the boy wiped his tears on the back of his hand. "May I take that collar off, master? I-I…"

"Only the dark side can remove it, John." Sherlock murmured. "And I do not want you to feel…"

John reached for the collar slowly, shadows engulfed his hand threaten, but the padawan reached for the light side. "Buggar off." The child hissed as he undid the collar's buckle, the shadows retreated.

"Will you ever obey me, little one?"

John felt the pain of his master's breaking heart rush into his mind. Both Jedi gasped as the other's pain mingled with their own, neither could shield from the other. John sobbed harder.

"Master."

"John."

"Grandpa said…that he'd come at the end…" John cried as he realized the elder Jedi meant at the end of Sherlock's life.

Sherlock stroked John's hair lightly. "He will comfort you when I'm gone." Sherlock sighed. "Call him an idiot for me."

"Why don't you do it yourself, Curly?" A warm voice flooded the cold cell.

John gaped as his grandfather appeared before them.

"Grandpa!"

"Master…"

Lestrade grinned at both his boys.

"'Lo, Curly. I have missed you."


	33. Chapter 33

Lestrade placed a soft hand on John's shoulder and guided him from the dying Jedi.

John gazed longingly at his master's weakening body, the knight grimaced as the boy was pulled from him. "Master, I want him with…"

Lestrade hushed him softly. Sherlock gave Lestrade a pained look, the master rested a soft hand on his former padawan's brow. The deceased smiled proudly at the young knight at his feet. "Trust me?"

"Barely." The rasping response.

"Brat." Lestrade flicked the young man in the forehead. Sherlock managed a pained smile. He motioned for John to come back to him, the boy obliged with a small sob. Sherlock stroked the child's hair tenderly. His fingers danced through the soft hair, his hand trailed down the sensitive skin of the boy's neck and gave the child's ear a light tug. He grimaced as John cried harder.

"John."

"I am sorry, Master."

Lestrade placed a steady hand on John's back. Gravely he looked at the padawan, John had tears toppling from his eyes. Lestrade gave the young back a gentle stroke. "I am sorry as well, John." Lestrade murmured to the poor child. "For you will have to endure your master's presences for another few years."

The thought did not register with neither padawan nor knight at first. Sherlock was the first to comprehend the failing promise. He let out a pained sigh against the hard floor. "Master, you raise his hopes."

John gripped Lestrade's hand desperately, the child's sky blue eyes implored the master not to be lying. Lestrade frowned heavily at the pair.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" The master gave Sherlock a disappointed look. "You of all people. I left you clues, kiddo."

"Master…" Sherlock croaked painfully.

Lestrade carded his hand through John's hair, he paused at the area where the padawan's braid had proudly been attached. The old master smiled and ran his fingers down, the interlace reformed under his fingertips. "We have time, young one." Lestrade said softly. "Think. Think of the clues left to you."

Lestrade twisted the boy's head and pointed to a scar on the small ear. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, for as often as he nipped the boy's ear his eyes were usually shut. Sherlock reached up to stroke the small scar across the ear. John blushed. "What?"

"You couldn't always heal?"

"Yes I could!" The child huffed. "I healed myself the moment we got to temple. I tripped out of the ship and healed my nose."

Sherlock shot a look towards Lestrade, the elder had insisted the youngest retrieve his bear. "Little one, is that also the day you received your bear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Oh, I've been so stupid." Sherlock mumbled.

"Like you I saw myself pass in a vision, Sherlock." Lestrade said gently. "That is why I declined your offer of company on that mission." He stroked Sherlock's dark hair gently. "You would have only blamed yourself. However, previous to that I saw another vision. A vision of a small boy, a padawan." The master looked towards John, who had his hand firmly clenched in Sherlock's shirt. "Your padawan as it turns out. I came to this planet guided by the Force and found a young Force sensitive prince. His mother insisted I take and protect him. She gave him the bear, and I…"

"Stored a healing crystal inside." Sherlock frowned. "Master, no crystal is strong enough…"

"Young one, after you were knighted I needed to go on a mission to find my future. The council urged me to take another padawan, but after you it just didn't seem possible. What I found was an entirely Force sensitive planet. And the most powerful healing crystal I had ever encountered."

Sherlock glared at his former master. "You could have lived."

"Much like my light saber was not meant for you, this crystal was not meant for me." Lestrade smiled sadly. "My time had come, Curly. There was nothing I could do to stop it, other than protect my legacy through Force guided visions."

"But you could have…" Sherlock began, his voice laced with pain. "You could have survived, if you kept it, if you let me help you." Sherlock hissed.

"Sherlock, it was me or John." The master said finally.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered to his padawan, John's pained expression said it all. John was already blaming himself for Lestrade's death. Sherlock's stomach clenched.

Despite the fire in every cell he sat up slowly, his arm stretched out carefully, and he snatched the boy against his chest in a one arm hug. "Don't you dare, don't you ever think that was your fault." Sherlock's body screamed in pain, but he shoved away the feeling as John clung to him.

"It is my fault though." John cried.

"No." Sherlock said forcefully. His mind grew groggy.

John curled himself against his master, willing the elder's words to be true.

"Little one." Sherlock nipped his ear softly.

"There, you see? Stop your whining." Lestrade chuckled. "John, bring your bear to Sherlock, please."

John ran to where his bear had fallen and brushed it off. He ran back to Sherlock's side and perched himself across from Lestrade. The child made to hand the bear to the deceased Jedi, but was stilled with a small hand gesture.

"You'll need to sacrifice your bear and your healing abilities, John."

"Yes, sir." John said fiercely.

Sherlock shook his head. "John, you will be able to be hurt…"

"Master, shut up." John snapped. The knight gave the reformed padawan braid a hard tug.

"John, listen to me."

The padawan carved into the bear with his pocket saber, a clear crystal clattered to the ground. The child gave his former teddy bear a miserable glance and a small kiss to the head. Sherlock swore he heard the boy mumble "thank you". The bear was lain peacefully back to the ground. Sherlock gripped his padawan's arm firmly.

"Little one, you haven't felt pain in a long while. Think of what you are giving up for me."

John stared into the ocean blue eyes of his teacher, Sherlock recoiled slightly at the fire in his padawan's eyes. The elder reached for his student's cheek, his hand curved around the smooth fresh tenderly. John cried against the palm. "I don't care, Master. I don't."

"I do." Sherlock mumbled as thumbed away the child's tears. "I care, John."

The boy opened his master's fingers and dropped the crystal in his grip, Sherlock instinctive tightened his hand around the warm gem. Light began filtering through the Jedi's long fingers, Lestrade pulled John away rapidly.

"Sherlock, this will only fix your life energy!" He shouted over the growing roar of the Force. "Your physical body will still be injured!"

Sherlock threw Lestrade a swift look. "Master, will I see you again?" Sherlock called back.

Lestrade gave John's shoulders a strong squeeze. "No. No, Curly, you will not. Until you pass later on in life, we will not see each other again."

Sherlock's eyes bore into Lestrade's as the Force surrounded the young man's chest. Sherlock reached towards his elder longingly. "Master, please come back."

"I have passed, Sherlock." The master said with a sad smile. "I cannot come back again. I have broken far too many rules."

"I didn't get to say goodbye last time!" Sherlock shouted.

Lestrade stepped forward as the light began to fade from the knight's body. He knelt by his former student's body. Muttering a small blessing, the master extended his hand over Sherlock's eyes. "It is never goodbye, my apprentice."

Sherlock clutched the silver haired man's arm for a final time. "Master, I…"

Lestrade silenced him with a cheerful smile. "I know."

He allowed the knight to embrace him swiftly, before pulling away lightly. He ruffled the young knight's hair warmly.

"And just so you know, Curly, that crystal only works for Jedi completely dedicated to the light. You are a good man, kiddo."

The clasped hands one final time before the master began to depart. He gave John's hair a light ruffle.

"Take care of him."

"I will." Both Sherlock and John promised at the same time.

Lestrade threw his head back and chuckled warmly.

"I will see you in other world, I swear to you."

John waved tearfully as his grandfather began to fade, Sherlock began to sit up ever so slowly. His broad hand stretched out over John's back. Lestrade gave both Jedi a warm smile and a small wave.

"Te amo, cum te Mihi in die primo non licet. Mihi parvulus semper." Lestrade muttered softly.

"Magister, magistri mei." Sherlock replied softly.

John blinked at the foreign language. "Master?"

"Translate it on your datapad when we get home, little one."

Home.

"Yes, Master."

oOo

They ran.

There was nothing graceful, nor sophisticated about it.

Sherlock collected the child against his chest, kicked through the door, and ran. John cleaved to his teacher's neck as if to never let go. Sherlock cradled the back of John's head carefully. His broken legs cried out in pain, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Master, our sabers?"

"Getting there."

Sherlock shouldered through a door, Moran's study.

Former study.

The sabers were sitting on a desk, Sherlock's was dismantled, but all pieces were accounted for. John's remained untouched, his hand welcomed the warmth that surged through it at the touch of the familiar metal. Sherlock quickly reassembled his saber with ease, never letting go of the boy.

"John?" A shocked voice came from the doorway.

Harry.

Sherlock steady himself against the wall, his face was passive, aside from the droplets of sweat that fell from them. Sherlock's grip on the child was only tight enough to barely hold him.

She could easily stop them.

John threw her a pleading look. Sherlock braced himself for another fight, the young woman gazed at him tiredly.

She stepped aside for them.

John let out a small gasp. "Thank you, Harry."

The young woman nodded blankly. Sherlock glared at her for only a second before taking their leave.

Another day they would come back for her.

But today John was his soul focus.

Sherlock shoved his way through the royal guard, easily over powering them with his curse. Each one falling into a deep and sudden sleep. Even John felt the urge to delve into sleep at Sherlock's command. The knight shook him lightly.

"Stay awake, little one."

"Yes, Master." The boy mumbled.

Sherlock Force sprinted to the Jedi base without ever slowing, or breaking. He and the padawan both tumbled into the base clumsily, causing Mycroft to recoil at the sight of them. Rica was at his side in a moment.

Mycroft had brought them a healer.

Perhaps he wasn't completely useless.

Sherlock collapsed to the ground and released his padawan. John staggered from the Jedi unsteadily, Rica immediately had machines in Sherlock's face. Mycroft reached to pull John from the scene, but Sherlock caught his tiny arm in a vice grip.

"John." He breathed. The child scooted closer to his master, desperately trying to close the gap. Sherlock stared into his eyes. "Do not leave me." The master commanded. "Stay with me. Where I can see you." He shook the boy slightly roughly. The boy nodded fiercely, the knight was too exhausted to shield from the child. John could feel every emotion coursing through his master.

Including his fear.

Sherlock gave into the darkness pulling him under.

They were free.


	34. Chapter 34

John refused to leave Sherlock's side.

"Enough of this." Mycroft snapped as he reached for the child who had no business being in the healer's bay. The boy shot him a challenging look and darted back under Sherlock's bed. The young knight had been unconscious now for a full day.

"He told me to stay with him." John found his way to the middle point underneath the king size bed. John had hidden himself there since Sherlock began his medical treatment, and Mycroft was through patiently trying to talk him out from under the bed.

"Padawan your master is going to be alright. You have classes…"

"Forgive me, Master, but I am following my teacher's orders." John tried diplomatically.

"I will not ask you again." The master threatened.

"Good because I'm tired of hearing you." The exhausted child snapped in a way that would have filled his master with pride. Mycroft's eyes narrowed, and John barely had time to shield himself from the heavy Force shove. The child prayed the master would not attempt another push, he was too exhausted to block another shove. Luckily the elder stalked away.

Rica tried next.

She came close to coaxing him out with soft words and assurance of his master's health, but when she told him he needed sleep the boy fled back to his solace. The child curled into a ball under his master's still body, Rica sighed.

Qui Gon was the one to finally achieve the goal.

Clever old goat.

He knelt on the right side of Sherlock's bed and gave no words of scorn or assurance. Grey eyes stared sympathetically into John's blue. The boy shook his head fierce, desperate for someone to understand. He tightened his Force shields on his right side.

And was greatly surprised to get shoved from left.

Qui Gon's padawan, Obi Wan, nudged the unyielding padawan towards his master easily. The boy was caught against the elder's chest, John didn't fight him. The child's fatigued body merely collapsed against the strong master.

"Please. Please, he told me to stay." John muttered. "He needs me, Master. Please."

Qui Gon sat down in one of the rooms chair and cradled the boy carefully. He nodded dismissively to his padawan, who gave an understanding nod and bowed. Qui Gon stared concernedly at Sherlock.

"Tell me everything."

John described everything to last detail.

Qui Gon's brow furrowed.

"Greg…is your master alright with having seen Lestrade?"

"I believe so, sir."

Qui Gon set the boy back to the floor, John looked to Sherlock longingly.

"Here are my rules, young one. You may stay with your master, but you will eat when food is given to you, you will use the bathroom regularly, and you will drink water every hour."

John nodded.

"And you will sleep at night."

"In here." John begged.

The elder hesitated. "Very well."

"Thank you, Master." John said softly.

"The moment these rules are disobeyed you will be staying with Master Mycroft."

"I understand, Master."

"Go to him then."

John dashed towards the bed and perched himself at his master's side. John was careful of all the machines keeping track of his master's vitals as he laid his head down next to him.

Qui Gon nearly smiled at the two.

Nearly.

oOo

Sherlock awoke a week later.

He felt terribly broken inside, his bones still cried in pain whenever he shifted. The knight forced himself to remain unmoving. His eyes flickered to a small being, whose head was resting near his leg. Sherlock made to reach for his padawan, but the machine wires restrained him, clearly the Jedi healers were overly worried about him. He began tearing wires from himself.

John's head shot up as soon as his master's heart monitor went into a flat line. Sherlock reached out to touch the child's check.

It was soaking wet.

His eyes went to greasy blond hair on his padawans head, the dark circles under the child's eyes, the knight had been unconscious for too long.

Long enough for the healers to tell John his master more than likely wouldn't awaken again.

The boy's clouded blue eyes stared at him incomprehensively, he was far too drained to have slept at all in the last week. Sherlock frowned heavily. John had thought he was going to die.

It was an absolutely ridiculous notion, Sherlock had no more intentions of dying before John was properly raised. He collected the boy in an awkward embrace that was not returned. The child was too tired to remember how to move his arms correctly.

Sherlock hoisted the baby boy into the air and made his way to the room's bathroom. John lay limp against the knight's chest, the child could barely recognize his master's hold.

Sherlock drew a bath swiftly, he opened the warm water tap half way and watched the steam roll for from the faucet. Carefully the knight set John on his own two feet and monitored the child's swaying. He pulled the tunics from over the boy's head, the same from a week ago, and freed the child of his pants and undergarments. He gently arranged the child in the tub.

John stink had been horrendous. How had Rica not forced the boy to bathe?

John was asleep in seconds, the water lapped his skin hungrily. Sherlock reached for a bar of soap and felt the pressure of a soft hand over his.

"Sherlock."

"Rica."

"You're supposed to be dead." She said frankly.

"Sorry to disappoint." He said with a grim smile.

"You know what I mean." She said sorely.

Sherlock lathered the soap bar and began scrubbing John's thin arms, he had to constantly right the child's slumping head as he was cleaned. Sherlock scowled angrily. "Why hasn't he washed since we've arrived?"

"Sherlock, we could hardly pull him away from you to use the bathroom! He insisted that he remain by your side at all times. Mycroft is furious at the attachment between you two."

"There is no attachment between us." Sherlock said crossly. The knight cradled the boy's head as he scrubbed his back. Sherlock made his movements soft and gentle.

"Clearly not." Rica snapped.

"He is filthy, what would you advise? Leaving him that way?" Sherlock washed the child lightly with a rag. John groaned softly as the warm water coursed down his back. The elder began washing the child's hair shortly after. John made a childish mew as the hand carded tenderly through his hair. Sherlock smiled slightly.

"Stop it." Rica snapped.

"What?" Sherlock asked bitterly.

"You are giving them reason to take him away from you." Rica nearly shouted, but reigned back her temper for the knight's sake. Sherlock was still new to feelings.

The knight cupped water in his hands and poured it over John's hair, the boy's face contorted in annoyance. "I haven't been here in a month, Rica. They can't possibly have enough data to…"

"Qui Gon had to force him out from under the bed. I had to force him to use the restroom. Mycroft had to force him off of you after you blacked out in the base!"

John whimpered at her shouting.

Sherlock pulled the child from the tub and drained the water. He shook John awake and made him stand as he was dried. Sherlock softly ran the towel over John's soft hair. "He grew an inch."

"What?"

"I was imprisoned, and he had the nerve to grow." Sherlock said bitterly as though hating himself for the words. "I will not miss more of his development. The council as well as the Force has decided this boy is my padawan."

John hummed quietly in agreement, though Sherlock was quite certain the child was too incoherent to truly understand what was happening. He wrapped the boy in the towel and hoisted him in the air.

"I don't want them to take him from you." Rica said honestly.

"I am this boy's master that is final." Sherlock swore swiftly. "This child is mine."

He carried the boy to his former bed without a backwards glance. The knight laid the child down on the soft sheets and tucked him under the warm blanket. He glanced around for his belongings and found his pants stuffed in a corner.

He was lucky Rica hadn't burned them.

In the pants pocket a small, torn bear had been stuffed. Sherlock picked up from the pile and thrust it at the woman. "Sow this."

"He isn't my padawan." Rica glared at him teasingly. She took the bear from him slowly. Sherlock's face flushed slightly as their fingertips met, the young woman rolled her eyes. "This is just another one you owe me, Curls."

"Kriff off." He scoffed rudely.

"Go be with him, you insufferable man." Rica rolled her eyes as she left.

Sherlock arranged himself around the small boy that had curled his way into the mess of blankets. Gently Sherlock stroked his padawan's back as the lay together, John still oblivious to being clean and in a bed. John gave a small yawn and turned into Sherlock's chest.

Not so oblivious then.

Sherlock searched John's open mind for the last time he had slept. It had been almost eight days ago. Sherlock mental cursed his padawan.

John was a child. Children needed naps, nine hours of sleep a night, to be fed, and bathed properly. John had had none of that during the week.

And the fact that the child had the very audacity to grow taller as his master could not watch was almost unbearable. Sherlock held the boy closer to his chest. John would be nine soon.

And then ten.

And then sixteen.

And then knighted.

Sherlock tightened his grip.

No. The child wasn't allowed to grow so fast. John shifted in his sleep, his small face shoved itself farther into his master's strong chest. John's nose seemed to be scenting the knight carefully. Sherlock growled approvingly.

John's eyes fluttered. "Master?"

"Little one." Sherlock pressed his forehead to John's. "You should be sleeping."

"…told me you may not…Master Mycroft said to prepare for the worst." John nestled into the Jedi's embrace. "Scared." The boy muttered finally.

"I will not die at least until you have been raised." Sherlock promised.

"You can't promise that, Master." John murmured.

"Do not doubt me, brat." Sherlock said lightly.

John smiled against Sherlock's neck. "I will never doubt you, Master."

"Now who is making promises they cannot keep?" Sherlock asked softly.

"Master…"

Sherlock rolled both of them over and laid the child on his chest. John praised the living Force as Sherlock's strong heart beat kept time beneath his cheek. John yawned softly as sleep crashed back over him, Sherlock kissed his small brow.

"I have nightmares." John confessed. "I-I can see them hurt you. You never cry out, but it looks like it hurts, Master."

"It never hurt, little one. You hit harder than them."

"They whipped you." John spoke quietly. "And electrocuted you, and beat you, and held you under water, and…"

"John." Sherlock said softly. He called upon his curse. "You will sleep now."

The child nodded at once obedient and fell asleep in a second, Sherlock took in the sleeping boy's peaceful face. The small, rosebud mouth was opened slightly, the turned up nose wrinkled as Sherlock adjusted his weight, the baby fat that still lined his face.

John's breaths were short, but strong.

The sound was musical.

He allowed himself to shut his eyes and breathe the child in.

Safe.

Safe.

John was safe.

oOo

"Inexcusable."

Sherlock ignored his brother and cocked an eyebrow at his apprentice, who was still refusing food. John scowled at his untouched fruit as though it were poison. Sherlock allowed the Force to light the napear into the air towards his padawan's mouth.

The boy refused, claiming his stomach ached.

"It aches because you are hungry, little one."

John reluctantly bit into the fruit, Sherlock released it into his padawan's open hands.

"Sherlock." Mycroft snapped. "The boy is too attached to you."

"I assume someone who was attached would show more obedience." Sherlock scolded as John put the fruit back onto the table.

"And there would only be attachment given to understanding patrons, Master." John's smart mouth had mysteriously made a reappearance. "Ones who would not force food open innocent children."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Brat."

"Yes, Master." The child grinned towards him.

Mycroft cleared his throat loudly, Sherlock cocked his head in a bored fashion. The master's brow unfurrowed, Mycroft spoke in an even voice. "He is too young to be an apprentice, Sherlock. We did not factor in his age causing attachment."

Both Jedi froze.

"It was a trying time, Mycroft. I had been-" the knight looked to John and sighed, "tortured, of course he was unwilling to leave my side."

"And when did you become the expert on feelings, my brother." Mycroft sneered.

Sherlock said nothing, but motioned John to his side. The child found his obedience and scrambled towards his master. John gave Mycroft a pleading gaze. "It will not happen again, Master. Sherlock usually has the stench of a bantha. Truly I was only attached to his side that once."

"Little one." Sherlock scowled.

"Jedi do not lie, Master."

Sherlock's hand twitched as if to pull the boy closer, but froze as Mycroft's eyes narrowed. "He will be brought back to his youngling group, and you may resume his training at the age of twelve."

John's sharp intake of breath startled the knight. Fear crashed across their shared bond. Sherlock gave his brother a cold glance. "Let me speak with him."

"Sherlock…"

"It is the least you can do. The child has been through enough and you've attacked him with yet another problem." Sherlock snapped as he guided John in his bedroom. The elder slammed the door shut.

"M-master." John clung to him the second the door shut. "They can't. Master, that's four years."

Sherlock stroked the boy's hair softly. "It is less than four years, John. Don't be dramatic."

"Master!" John shouted.

"Little one." Sherlock knelt before his padawan. "What would have me do, child? I cannot defy the whole council with a decision about you. If I stalked in there demanding to keep you," the knight cupped the child's cheek. "those idiots would take you away, and I would never see you again."

Sherlock hated approaching the subject reasonably.

The imbeciles did not deserve reasonable for causing his padawan more pain.

"But…" John bowed his head miserably.

"I will not just hand you over to Mycroft. Stop sulking, little one. I will speak to the council presently." Sherlock pulled John closer to him. "And…and we will accept whatever answer is given to us and turn it into something less idiotic."

John sniffled into his shoulder. "After all that, Master. They will truly take you away from me? Just like that."

"Just like that." The knight confirmed gently. "And do not forget they are taking you away from me as well."

"Yes, but you will be able to go adventures and forget…"

Padawan, enough." Sherlock shook him sharply. "We are still bonded, we are still master and apprentice. I will not just leave."

John leaned in closer to his master. "I trust you, Master. Even if you smell like bantha bottom."

Sherlock heaved the little boy into the air. His heart pounded.

How tall would John be at twelve?

Would his voice have changed by then?

Would he still want to be a healer?

Would he still want Sherlock?

He would talk to Mycroft.

oOo

Mycroft's judgment remained unchanged. There would be no compromises, no adjustments, Sherlock could visit his padawan once a standard month, no more.


	35. Chapter 35

"No."

"Padawan."

"No, Master."

Sherlock placed the reed pipes in his apprentice's bag anyway. John had tears coursing down his cheeks, but refused to sniffle. Sherlock knelt in front of his padawan and padded away the child's tears.

"No more of these." He said sternly.

"I have nothing to give you in return, it wouldn't be fair!" John placed his slight hands on Sherlock's shoulders and shook the knight. "I cannot accept your gift, Master."

"Little one, it is a great disrespect to return a gift."

John huffed audibly. "I have nothing to give you though."

Sherlock reached behind his own belt and gave a small tug and presented the child with a familiar bear. John let a high pitched squeal as he snatched the bear to his chest. John buried his face deep into the newly sown fur of his beloved toy.

By the time Sherlock was allowed to teach the boy again, no doubt he would be well over the age of stuffed animals. Sherlock tenderly carded his hand through the child's soft hair. John gave a small coo and accepted the affectionate stroke gratefully.

"Don't go." The boy pleaded softly.

"I will see you in a standard month, John." Sherlock said carefully. John gave a small nod, but was not comforted. Sherlock pulled the boy against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke.

There was nothing they could say to each other that would change events.

"What can I give you in return, Master?" John implored softly.

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Promise me you will not want to change apprenticeship."

John wrapped his thin arms around the master's neck, it was in their final moments together. Their quarters seemed for drearier with John's things packed. The padawan nodded into Sherlock's shoulder. "Of course I promise, Master."

Sherlock nipped the boy's ear gently. The misery shared across the bond forced Sherlock to lift the boy into the air and set him on his hip. John felt slightly better in his master's hold but Sherlock only felt worse.

Soon he wouldn't be able to hold his padawan any longer, John would grow beyond pick-ups. Sherlock sniffed the child possessively, John giggled at the insistent snuffling. Sherlock played with the ends of the boy's hair, they stood out at awkward angles by the time he had finished.

"Master." The boy wrapped his tiny fists tightly in lapels of the elder's tunics. "I am sorry I let you down. I-I didn't mean to show attachment."

Sherlock shook his head. "You have an appalling trait of apologizing for things that are not your fault."

"Sorry."

"Little one."

John nuzzled his master's neck carefully, neither one seemed desperately to release the other from their hold. Sherlock rocked the child gently, John began falling asleep at his shoulder. The knight sighed.

It felt dangerously close to being tortured once more.

_Sentiment. Kriffing Sentiment._

A full month before he could rock his padawan in such a fashion again. Sherlock wanted to absorb every ounce of his padawan's data to prepare for his later years. John snored softly against the strong shoulder that held him, the boy was so trusting.

That would change.

The clock on the mantel chimed one, the end of their time together. Sherlock roused John gently with a small shake, the padawan blinked sleepily in Sherlock's direction. The knight pressed their foreheads together softly. "I am sorry, John."

"Master, please." John mumbled, still dazed from sleep. "Please don't go."

"I will see you in a standard month, padawan." Sherlock tore out the pain in his heart as best he could. The child clung to his master desperately as he was set back upon the floor. Sherlock knelt with his apprentice's motions and was fiercely hugged.

He did not return the embrace.

"Go, John." Sherlock murmured bitterly. The child twisted his face in the tunics and shook his head, the knight rested his chin on the boy's head. "Do you want me to go with you?" He asked softly.

"I don't want you to leave me." The child said miserably.

Sherlock barely managed to pry himself free of the child's grip, half of him truly did not want to. He shouldered the boy's pack and allowed himself to card his hand through the soft blond hair. Together they took slow steps towards the door, John's fingers touched everything they could on the way out.

"A month." John said firmly. "Don't forget, Master."

Sherlock only nodded.

How could he forget something he'd be counting seconds for?

They walked side by side to the youngling's quarters. Sherlock stopped before the long hallway and handed John his room number and his bag. The boy's eyes teared again, but he said nothing.

"I will see you again, little one." Sherlock reminded him firmly.

"Yes, Master." The timid reply.

"Padawan."

John turned to look at him.

"You are still mine." Sherlock said with fierce loyalty. "Do not forget it."

"Never, Master." The boy swore.

They shared a formal bow and a less than formal forehead touch. Sherlock of course had to scent John for a final time, knowing full well that at their next meeting the child would reek of others. John nipped Sherlock's ear tenderly, Sherlock swiftly kissed the child's cheek.

"Robe?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Saber?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sleeping robe?"

"Yes."

Sherlock nudged John gently with his knee. "Go."

John nodded tearfully, but could delay it no longer. Sadly he trudged away from his master to his new quarters. Sherlock's frown reset itself upon the knight's face, and he knew it would remain there for a month.

The knight sighed heavily. He reached into his pocket for the transfer papers Mycroft had given him. He had to board a ship in less than an hour for his new home. He tore the envelop open angrily, and flipped through the pages.

_Congratulations, dear brother. You have passed your second evaluation. You and your padawan are now assigned to the planet Nivek to locate three of the missing padawans. John has received similar papers on his doorstep. Expect a squeal any second._

Sure enough John's childish yelp of joy could be heard down the corridor. Sherlock hid his grin behind his papers as thunderous footsteps rushed to him. His padawan attached himself to the knight's leg and refused to let go.

Sherlock did not comfort him.

But he did kneel down to hug his child.

**End of first book.**


End file.
